Cowboy Protector (5 page)

“Oh, that poor man.” His laughter drifted through the connection. “Anyway, I mainly wanted to make sure you arrived all right and the job was working out.”

“Thanks, Saul. You’re a good friend.” After Hannah hung up, she remained at the desk, staring at the phone. A reporter was looking for her. Why? Did it have something to do with what happened in LA.?

On Saturday night Hannah tucked Misty into bed and settled beside the young girl to read her a story. “Which one would you like to hear?”

“The one about the princess.” The child tried to stifle a yawn but couldn’t. She laid her head against Hannah’s shoulder.

She began and got through one page when Misty’s head fell forward. Hannah eased up from the bed and covered the girl to her chin. After Hannah tiptoed to the bookcase and shelved the book, she came back to switch off the lamp, leaving only the nightlight for illumination. The instant the lamp went out, Misty’s eyes popped open.

“You leaving?” She yawned again, blinking rapidly as she fought to stay awake.

“Well, no, I don’t have to. I can sit here until you fall asleep if you want.”

“Yes,” Misty whispered and snuggled deeper into the covers. “Will you promise me somethin’?”

“Yes, if I can.” Hannah sat again on the bed beside Misty.

“I get to go to church tomorrow. Will you come?”

She’d used to go to church with her mother every week. Often her younger brother would accompany them. But that changed when she’d witnessed the murder. She hadn’t attended church since the whole mess that landed her in the Witness Protection Program began. And she wasn’t sure she should. Five years ago she gave up asking the Lord for anything. She suspected now He wasn’t too happy with her. But how was she supposed to believe in a loving God if He didn’t care about what happened to her and for that matter her mother and brother with her disappearance?

“Hannah, will you?”

She looked toward the little girl whose milk-chocolate eyes were glued to her, worry in their depths. Hannah brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Yes, I’ll come with you. So you’re pretty excited about going to church?”

“I haven’t seen my friends in
ages
.”

Hannah’s fond memories of belonging to a congregation and seeing people she cared about each week engulfed her in sadness of all she’d lost. “It’ll be fun meeting them.” She forced a light tone into her voice.

A huge smile faded quickly as Misty yawned yet again. Her eyelids slid close. “You’ll like them. Jamie’s my best…”

The last part of the child’s sentence faded into the silence as sleep finally swept through her. Hannah stared at Misty, her throat tight. If she had a little girl, she wish—
Stop it!
She couldn’t do the what-ifs. She wasn’t going to
have a child. Although the ache in her heart burned in her chest, she could never risk it. Ever. The walls of her own prison closed in on her.

“Hannah, are you all right?”

Austin’s voice from the doorway jerked her from her thoughts. She glanced down at her hands interlocked so tightly her knuckles whitened. She unlaced her fingers and swung her attention toward Misty’s father.

He took a step toward her. “Is Misty okay?”

She dredged up a smile of reassurance. “Yes, she’s fine. She just asked me to go to church with her tomorrow.” Not wanting to wake the child, she pushed to her feet and quickly covered the distance between her and Austin. “I told her I would. That’s all right, isn’t it?”

“Of course, you can go with us.” He touched her elbow and guided her into the hall. “But do you really want to go?”

“I don’t know. I…” The pressure in her chest, as if those prison walls had closed totally in on her and were squeezing the last breath from her lungs, made it difficult to talk. She backed away, then spun on her heel and hurried toward her room next to Misty’s.

Shutting her door, she listened for his footsteps to recede down the hallway, but quiet mocked her need to grieve her loss of family and freedom for the past five years. She wanted to hold a loved one. She wanted a family. The last child she had taken care of hadn’t been a live-in situation. She hadn’t been a part of the family. She’d put in her shift with the boy and left. Here she couldn’t do that. She didn’t even have a means of transportation to leave the ranch for a break.

Tears smarted her eyes. This job hadn’t been a good move for her. She’d thought the isolation would be a plus.
She wouldn’t have to watch every car or person coming into her view. But she’d only traded one set of problems for another—far worse because they played with her emotions, her deep need to have more than the life dealt her.

Hannah leaned back against her door and closed her eyes, keeping the sobs inside. She tried to imagine her mother and younger brother. Suddenly their images wouldn’t appear on the screen of her mind. Instead she pictured Austin, tall, commanding, holding his daughter’s hand and reaching out toward Hannah.

She sank to the floor and buried her face in her hands. The tears came then, flowing unchecked.

Austin stared at the closed door to Hannah’s bedroom. His hands curled and uncurled at his sides. He wanted to burst into her room and hold her. He’d seen raw pain in her eyes.

Why these feelings? What’s going on, Lord? I don’t want to care about anyone.

The sound of crying filtered through the wooden barrier between them. He stepped forward. Halted. She was hurting. What had happened to make her cry? Why would Misty asking her to go to church cause this? He gritted his teeth, wanting so badly to pound on her door until she let him in.

He hated secrets. They had destroyed his marriage. He felt Hannah’s whole life was a secret. And yet, she drew him. He’d catch a certain look of pain in her eyes that spoke to his own. He saw how she interacted with his daughter and saw genuine caring on her part—more than Misty’s own mother had ever given her.

What do I do, Lord? I’m not very good at relationships. I couldn’t even keep my wife here at the ranch
.

Finally silence surrounded him as though that were his answer. This wasn’t the right time. Hannah needed her privacy, but he intended to discover what was going on with her. And maybe he’d be able to show her there was a higher power who could help her better than anyone.

He moved toward his daughter’s room, tiptoeing across it to her bed. Bending down, he kissed her softly. Misty was his life now.

After the service at Sweet Creek Christian Church, Hannah walked beside Misty while her dad pushed her toward the recreation hall in a manual wheelchair that was easy to transport. The reverend had made a point to ask Caroline and Austin to stay for refreshments.

She’d gone with Misty to her Sunday school class before the service and met all the girl’s friends. She’d even enjoyed the older couple who taught the children a lesson on the Ten Commandments. But when she’d sat between Austin and Misty, positioned at the end of the pew, she felt like a fraud, listening to the reverend’s sermon on trust in the Lord. She’d lost the ability to trust anyone or anything.

She couldn’t forget the man’s parting words from the Psalms:
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble
. If only that were the case.

Caroline opened one of the double doors into the rec hall while another person thrust the other wide. Austin wheeled Misty through the threshold. The sound of cheering and clapping greeted the child’s entrance. A twelve-foot-long banner on the far wall proclaimed “Welcome back, Misty,” and a large sheet cake and a bowl of red punch graced a long table.

The little girl beamed at the scene before her. The sight
of the child’s happiness expanded Hannah’s chest. She almost felt as if she was being welcomed into the midst of these people.

“This is for me,” Misty murmured, her gaze sweeping the room filled with parishioners.

“Yup, munchkin.” Austin leaned down. “You’re special to these people.”

Hannah backed away as the children from Misty’s class surrounded her, so pleased with themselves for keeping a secret about the party. Hannah stood by the double doors, nodding to a few parishioners who greeted her but perfectly content to be away from the crowd.

“This is what Misty needed,” Caroline said as she approached Hannah. “I had no idea they were going to surprise her like this.”

“Yeah, the joy on her face is wonderful to watch.” Pure, innocent joy, something Hannah wished she could remember. When was the last time she’d laughed without a care in the world?

“It’s good to see Austin smiling more, too.”

“I imagine this whole thing has been hard on him.”

“If it hadn’t been for the Lord, I don’t know if he would have made it. He came apart at the hospital. The sheriff told him that if Misty had been sitting just a half a foot to the left she would probably have died like Jillian. When his daughter came out of the operation, I found him in the chapel on his knees, tears streaking down his cheeks.”

Such love. “I’m glad God answered his prayers.”

Caroline studied her a moment. “It sounds like you think He didn’t answer yours.”

Hannah shook her head.

Caroline turned toward her and took her hands. “He answered mine. I wanted someone special to work with
Misty and we have someone like that. The Lord always answers your prayers in His time, but His reply might not be what you think it should be.”

Hannah attempted a smile that she couldn’t maintain. “What if you don’t like His answer?”

“Have you asked yourself why?”

Oh, many times. Why am I away from my family? Why am I hiding and scared all the time?

“Keep praying. Don’t give up. He hears you.” Caroline squeezed Hannah’s hands. “All I know is that I’m so glad you are with us. Now I’m going to relieve my grandson for a while. I need to get in on the celebration.” She started toward the crowd around Misty, stopped and peered back. “Coming?”

“I will in a minute.”

But as Hannah watched the group, she felt like she always did since coming to Montana—an outsider yearning to be accepted. She rotated toward the door and pulled it open. Out in the foyer she inhaled then exhaled deep breaths, but still felt as if a band was constricting her chest. Too many emotions churned through her, threatening her composure.

Her gaze swept the area as she tried to decide where to go. Her attention fell upon the glass doors into the sanctuary. The empty place called to her, and she moved toward it. Inside the church, she slipped into the back pew and sat.

Lord, why have You abandoned me? I tried to do the right thing, and I’m the one who’s being punished. I didn’t kill that man. Why me? What do You want from me? Did I not believe hard enough?

Question after question reeled through her mind, but answers evaded her. Adrift on a sea of doubt, she floundered, trying to grasp hold of something to keep her afloat.

A sensation of being watched sent her heart pounding. She scanned the church then looked to the side and behind her. Out in the foyer stood Austin, his gaze on her. He nodded but stayed where he was as though he was there to protect her privacy. Another brick in her wall about her emotions crumbled into dust.

When Hannah entered the kitchen later Sunday evening after everyone else was asleep, the phone on the desk snagged her attention. Her curiosity aroused, she couldn’t get Saul’s call the other day out of her mind. Why was Violet looking for Jen Davis? She hadn’t used that name in years. She could call her on her cell and block her number. It would be hard to track her, especially since she didn’t leave her cell on. She only turned it on when she needed to make a call.

Hannah opened the refrigerator. Cold air enveloped her, along with the thought she should douse her curiosity. She should leave it alone. But what if the woman kept asking questions and searching for her? That could bring attention to her and get her killed.

“I thought I’d find you in here.” Austin entered the kitchen later Sunday evening after everyone else was asleep and planted himself not far from Hannah, leaning back against the counter. “I always check on Misty before going to bed and saw your door was open and your room empty.”

She sent him a smile, pushing the thought of Violet Kramer from her mind. “I checked on her before coming in here.” Lifting the milk carton, she asked, “Do you want any?”

“Sure. I never thought I would acquire a taste for warm milk, but it did the trick the other night.”

After filling the pan, Hannah stirred the liquid, glad to have something to do with her hands. She couldn’t get Austin’s look in the church’s foyer out of her mind. Protective as though with him she was safe. That feeling had stayed with her all day. When she had finally left the sanctuary, Austin had disappeared into the rec hall, not saying a word to her as though he’d instinctively realized she’d needed some space to process her conflicting emotions concerning the Lord.

When the silence between them lengthened to a full minute, she shifted and faced him partially. “You never told me if you talked with the man who had been smoking in the barn.”

“Not yet. I kept missing him on Friday. He was off this weekend, and I want to do this in person. This incident with the smoking only confirmed what I needed to do a couple of weeks ago. He doesn’t do his job well, and I need everyone pulling his weight. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

“So he isn’t one of the hands who lives on the ranch?”

“No, I’ll have to fill his vacancy soon.”

After Hannah poured some milk into two mugs that Austin retrieved from the cabinet, she sat at the table with him across from her. “Misty couldn’t stop talking about the surprise party for her this afternoon.”

“It tired her out, though.”

“Yeah, her stamina isn’t back to its usual level, but she took an extra long nap today.”

“How’s Granny doing?” He sipped his drink.

“I’m watching her sugar levels and what she eats. I hope to get her to go for walks with me while Misty is napping. Exercise helps.”

“My grandmother used to ride a lot. Maybe I should suggest she start again. You two could do that.”