Page 32 of Smoke River Family

“Let’s wait another twelve hours, Zane,” Samuel said. “See if she regains consciousness.”

“Hard to do, Samuel. Every hour that passes she gets weaker. If we went in now, at least she wouldn’t feel it.”

“If we went in now, she might never feel anything ever again. Go home, Zane. Get some sleep.”

“Can’t. I’ll stay with her till morning.”

“I’ll stop by your house on my way home and let them know you’ll be late.” The older man turned to go.

“Oh, Samuel? Would you ask my houseboy if he’d bring some of those pancakes his wife makes?”

An hour later, Winifred arrived carrying a basket of warm pancakes and a quart jar of hot coffee wrapped in flannel. Her hat and long black coat were dusted with snow.

Zane stepped past Elvira’s hospital room and took the basket. “Snowing again?”

“Just started. How is Mrs. Sorensen?”

“Fighting hard.”

“Will she—?”

“Don’t know. Can’t operate yet. Winifred, thanks for the coffee and the food. Now go on back to the house. No use your getting your toes and fingers frozen.”

Winifred looked at him oddly, then stretched up on tiptoe to brush a kiss against his cheek.

He stared at her, wondering if he’d dreamed what just happened. “What’s that for?”

“I don’t know. I just felt... I don’t know.”

As tired as he was, Zane smiled. “You’re one helluva puzzling woman, Winifred.”

She blushed crimson and turned away.

“Winifred.”

She halted but did not turn toward him. “One helluva woman,” he said again. “Thanks.”

Hours later, Zane stumbled through his front door so tired he could scarcely see and so drained his mind couldn’t focus. Sam met him at the bottom of the staircase, a plate in his hand.

“You hungry, Boss?”

“Hell, I don’t know. What meal is next?”

“Breakfast. You miss supper.”

Zane ran his hands through his hair. “It’s still dark outside. Got any coffee?”

“Make fast. Toast, too.”

“Just coffee. Bring it upstairs, could you?”

“Right away, Boss.”

“Is everyone asleep?”

“Baby in Missy Winifred’s room, but she wait up for you.”

For some reason Sam’s words spread warmth into his chest but he was too exhausted to analyze why. He tramped up the stairs to his bedroom, threw himself across the quilt and laid his arm across his eyes. He heard the tap on his door and it swung open.

“Leave it on the nightstand, Sam. And leave the lamp on downstairs and the door open. I don’t want to light a candle. Afraid I’ll knock it over. And thanks, Sam.”

“It isn’t Sam, Zane. It’s me.” Winifred sat down on the bed beside him. “How is Mrs. Sorensen?”

“Alive. We got the bullet out. I’d like to shoot her husband for putting her through this.”

Sam slipped in and quietly set a tray of coffee and toast on the nightstand. When he left, Winifred started to rise, but Zane reached out his hand and grasped her arm. “Stay. Please.”

He felt her stiffen, and without thinking he wrapped both arms around her. “Don’t go.”

“I must, Zane. It’s very late, and I—”

“Please.” He pulled her forward and splayed his fingers on her bare neck. He guessed she had on a night robe of some sort—it felt silky. She smelled of soap and lemons.

His hand moved to the hairpins holding her coiled braids in place; slowly he began to slip them free, then unbound the braids and combed his fingers through the thick waves.

“Zane,” she said softly. “Stop. You’re so tired you aren’t thinking clearly.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“You’re exhausted. And you need to eat something. Here, have some toast.”

“I’d rather have this. You.”

She jerked upright.

He groaned. “Forget it. You’re right, I’m not thinking clearly. I hardly know what I’m saying.”

She broke off a piece of toast and poked it past his lips. “Eat.” Obediently he chewed and swallowed.

“It’s been an awful night, Winifred.”

She offered another piece of toast, and then another, and raised his head for a sip of coffee.

“More,” he murmured. When she replaced the cup on the tray he pulled her down until her breasts grazed his shirt. “Winifred, don’t go. Not yet.” He smoothed his hands down her silk-swathed arms and felt her tremble. With a small sound she lay down beside him on the quilt, and he found himself thanking God he had a bed wide enough for two.

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