Vicki Lewis Thompson - Boone's Bounty

Josh tugged on the leg of her jeans. “Can Bob and me read those? They gots horsies.”

Shelby glanced to where Josh pointed and saw some western magazines on a table. She looked up at the clerk. “Is it okay? He knows not to tear pages out or anything.”

“Sure, it’s okay.” The desk clerk smiled down at Josh. “Go ahead and read the magazines, son.”

Shelby watched Josh go over to the table, carefully choose a magazine, and climb up in a ratty overstuffed chair before he started slowly turning the pages and muttering to himself, pretending he was reading. Every once in a while he glanced beside him and pointed out something in the magazine. Obviously he was sharing the experience with Bob.

“He’s a fine boy,” the clerk said. “You must be a proud momma.”

“Oh, I—” Shelby caught herself before she told the clerk she was not Josh’s mother. It was an automatic response, one she’d become used to giving because she’d taken care of Josh so much.

She’d once calculated that she’d spent more time with him than Patricia had. That had turned out to be a blessing, all things considered. If Josh had been closer to his mother and his grandparents, he would have been more grief-stricken when they had disappeared from his life. As it was, he seemed sad and definitely a little confused, but not overwhelmed.

Shelby was obviously the most important person in his world, but now was not the time to advertise the fact that Josh was her nephew, not her son. And besides, some day she hoped to be his mother, legally. If only Patricia had left a will, that wouldn’t be so damned complicated, either.

She brushed the thoughts away and smiled at the clerk. “I am very proud of Josh,” she said.

ALL SIX BOOTHS in the small café were full, but Boone had expected that. Later on, as people returned to their rooms, the place would empty out. Then he’d stake out a booth for the night.

He’d forgotten the bench seats were the hard plastic kind. Oh, well. He would have done the same thing, even if he’d remembered. He would have done the same thing if the seats had been made of barbed wire. A woman with a little kid needed a motel room more than he did. A pretty woman. He pushed the thought aside. He wasn’t in the market for a pretty woman.

Taking a stool at the counter, he ordered a cup of coffee from the café’s only waitress. Her name was Lucy according to the tag she wore, and she was definitely pregnant. She also looked worn-out, probably from handling a bigger crowd than usual.

“You live around here, Lucy?” he asked her as she poured him some coffee.

“Not too far away.” She moved with precision that came from experience. “Why?”

Boone glanced out the window before looking back at her. “The way it’s coming down out there, seems like you ought to head home while you still can.”

She gave him a weary smile. “That’s right nice of you to think of that. As a matter of fact, I am leaving in about another hour, after we get these folks fed. The couple who owns this place said they could handle everything. No need for Mr. Sloan to hang around the motel office now that the rooms are all rented, so he’s gonna come over here and help Mrs. Sloan so I can leave.”

Boone nodded. “Good. You got four-wheel drive?”

“Yeah. My hubby’s coming to pick me up in the Jeep.” She looked down shyly at her belly. “He’s sort of protective these days.”

“He should be,” Boone said.

Her cheeks turned a happy shade of pink. “I’m hoping for a boy, but Gary doesn’t care what we have, so long as the baby’s healthy. I—” She paused and broke eye contact as someone in a booth called her name. “Excuse me. Table two needs some looking after.” She bustled out from behind the counter and hurried over to the booth in question.

Boone had the urge to take over for her so she could put her feet up until her husband arrived. Sure, some activity was good for a woman in her condition, but not this much. He’d make a damn poor waitress, though, and he doubted she’d let him help her, anyway. Leastways not after he’d broken a few dishes and mixed up a couple of orders.

So he sipped his coffee and thought about whether Jessica had worked too hard while she was pregnant with Elizabeth. She should have notified him right away when she found out she was pregnant. Thinking of her struggling through the pregnancy and birth by herself drove him crazy with guilt.

The coffee had warmed him up considerably, so he took off his leather jacket and laid it across his lap. Then he unsnapped the breast pocket of his shirt and took out the note he’d gotten from Jessica. He’d read it about a million times, yet he still needed to keep looking at it to convince himself this wasn’t some bad dream he was having.

Dear Boone,

I’m counting on you to be a godfather to Elizabeth until I can return for her. Your quiet strength is just what she needs right now. I’ve left her with Sebastian at the Rocking D. Believe me, I wouldn’t do this if I weren’t in desperate circumstances.

In deepest gratitude, Jessica

The letter was dated more than two months ago. She’d gotten the zip code wrong, so that had delayed it some, and then when it had finally arrived in Las Cruces, he’d been on the road hunting up horseshoeing jobs.

Still holding the letter, Boone rubbed his chin and gazed out the window at the steady snow. Snow had landed him in this fix in the first place. More than two years ago he’d let his three best buddies—Sebastian Daniels, Travis Evans and Nat Grady—talk him into a skiing trip in Aspen. He didn’t belong on skis any more than a buffalo belonged on roller skates, but he’d gone for Sebastian’s sake. They’d all nearly gotten themselves killed in an avalanche while they were blundering around on the slopes.

Jessica Franklin had been working the front desk of the ski lodge, and it was their dumb luck that they’d struck up a friendship with her and she’d offered to go with them that day. Otherwise Nat would’ve been toast. Jessica had figured out where he was buried and had kept her head, directing the rest of them to help dig him out before he smothered.

“More coffee?” Lucy asked as she passed by again.

Boone glanced at his cup. It would be a long night, and he could probably use the caffeine. “Sure,” he said, smiling at her. “And thanks.”

“Anytime.”

After she left, he resumed staring out the window, and his thoughts returned to his predicament. He wished he could think about something else, but he couldn’t. If only he hadn’t gone to the avalanche reunion party last year. He’d thought the idea was kind of morbid, but once again he’d gone along with the crowd.

Besides, he’d needed the distraction. Darlene had just announced that she was breaking up with him to marry that dork Chester Littlefield.

As it had turned out, Nat hadn’t made it to the reunion party because of some prior commitment. That had left Boone, Jessica, Sebastian and Travis to celebrate. Boone didn’t usually drink much. Over the years he’d seen what liquor could do to a man while watching his father’s bouts with the bottle.

But that night, thinking about Darlene, he’d guzzled everything in sight. Sebastian and Travis had put away a fair amount themselves, but Jessica, being a good friend, had stayed sober so she could drive them back to their cabin and see that they all took some aspirin before they tumbled into bed.

And that was when Boone figured he’d stepped over the line and dragged Jessica into bed with him. Sober he’d never have considered such a thing. But drunk and depressed about Darlene, he might well have.

He was sure Jessica knew he hadn’t meant to, that he didn’t think of her like that. Hell, he’d probably called her Darlene in the middle of it all. So Jessica had shouldered the whole burden when she found out she was pregnant. But now she was in some kind of trouble and had asked him to be a “godfather.”