Sara Orwig - Babes In Arms

“One cup, Mom, and then I’ll help Dad and we’ll be on our way,” Colin said good-naturedly while his mother poured steaming cups of hot chocolate. He leaned back in the chair, stretching out his long legs, and Katherine thought how strong and reliable he looked. Yet she knew far too well how deceiving looks could be.

“You don’t have far to go and you’ll manage it.” Nadine smiled at Katherine.

Colin sipped his hot chocolate as Katherine raised her mug to her lips. The thick pottery mug warmed her fingers and the steaming chocolate tasted delicious, the first hot food in too long.

“Dad, we need to get going as soon as we can. I want to get the chores done,” Colin said, standing and carrying his mug of chocolate to the counter.

“Let’s go,” Will answered, pulling on a heavy coat and jamming a battered wide-brimmed hat on his head.

As the men left, Nadine moved around the kitchen cleaning cups and pouring more hot chocolate. After ten minutes of listening to Nadine talk about recipes and Colin when he was a child, Katherine realized that Nadine had not asked her a single question about her life, and she wondered if Colin had said something or if Nadine simply had her thoughts on her own family.

Dreading leaving with Colin again, Katherine still felt tense, watching the clock until finally she heard the slap of the door to the porch and the men’s voices and footstomping. Colin thrust his head inside. “Katherine, if you’ll get your coat, I won’t even come inside, because it’s sleeting again.”

She moved across the kitchen to put on her coat. Wiping her hands on a towel, Nadine Whitefeather followed her. “I’m glad you stopped by with Colin. Sometimes I worry about him being alone.”

“He won’t be alone tonight,” Katherine said, looking at the sleet that was laying a sheet of ice over the snow.

“Here, take this,” Nadine urged, thrusting a warm sealed plastic container into Katherine’s hands. “It’s chili. Colin can cook, but he has a limited menu.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Whitefeather,” Katherine said, turning to look at his mother. “It was nice to have met you.”

“It was nice to meet you, Katherine. I hope things work out for you.”

“Thank you,” Katherine repeated, startled and realizing Colin must have said something about her to his mother when they first arrived. She opened the back door and crossed the porch, seeing Colin waiting.

As they stepped off the porch, she slid on the ice. Instantly Colin Whitefeather’s arm went around her waist to steady her. His arm was a strong band, nothing more than a friendly, helpful gesture, yet a chilly withdrawal gripped her.

“Thanks,” she said, trying not to stiffen and make him aware of her reaction. “I’ll be all right,” she said, pulling away. He took her arm firmly and she had to fight the urge to shake free of his grip.

In minutes they were back in the truck, the chili on the seat between them. “Your folks are very nice,” she said quietly. nervousness increasing at the thought of being shut away in a blizzard with a total stranger who was a strong male and a cop.

“I moved back to Oklahoma so I can help Dad, although he doesn’t need me often. The men who work for me help out over here, too.”

Riding in silence, they crept to the section line and then turned east and Katherine couldn’t see any road. They were going little over ten miles an hour and the sleet was still coming down.

“Lines will be down in this one,” Colin said, wiping the windshield with the back of his hand. Seemingly in the middle of nowhere, the truck bounced over a cattle guard. He slowed to a halt and climbed out.

“Be right back. Want to close the gate,” he shouted and slammed the door while a flurry of white flakes tumbled over the car seat and melted.

Turning around, she wiped the window and saw he was swinging closed a large gate and padlocking it. Without a word he climbed back into the truck and put it into gear, driving slowly. They crept through an endlessly white world with a blinding lack of color and snow-covered objects that mesmerized and confused.

She shivered, wondering about his past, worrying about the present. She would be alone with him, miles from anyone, caught in a storm. She shivered and rubbed her arms, telling herself to stop being such an idiot.

Finally through the tumbling snow the darker bulk of a building loomed up. As they drove closer, she saw the house and attached garage. Pressing the garage-door opener, he waited while the door slid open. Fear wrapped around her more tightly than the coat she pulled close.

They entered a three-car garage that had an empty space, a Jeep and a space for the pickup. The noise of sleet hitting the truck dimmed to a staccato sound peppering the garage roof.

When the engine died, Colin climbed out. With a mounting reluctance, Katherine slowly opened the pickup door. They were in a large garage that adjoined a house. A black shadow dashed from a corner, followed by a great, shaggy gray dog. She gasped, her heart thudding and then calming as Colin Whitefeather turned to pet the animals. “This is Buster. The wolf is Lobo.”

She was still in the pickup and she eyed the dogs. “He’s really a wolf?” she asked, trying to take time to deal with her fear. The animal had to be a wolf. She gazed into yellow predator eyes. He had long legs and thick gray fur and his ears cocked forward as he studied her. “You’re certain it’s safe for me to get out? They look ferocious.”

“They’re lambs. And they know if I brought you in my car, you’re my guest.” He gave a short whistle and both dogs trotted to him. He petted them a few seconds. “Sit.”

Both animals sat down. “They won’t bite. I promise.”

She climbed out of the pickup. “They don’t have to sit. I’m just on edge.” She patted her knee as an invitation to them.

“Good dogs,” he said and they ran to her to mill around her. Katherine petted them, scratching their ears. “They’re beautiful animals.”

“Buster is a Border collie and Lobo is just what his name implies. I found him when he was a pup and I was up north. He was hurt and I brought him home with me.”

“So you take in strays often, Colin Whitefeather,” she remarked, giving him a faint smile.

He shook his head. “You two are it,” he said, gathering sacks into his arms.

Doubting his last remark, she picked up the chili and a sack of groceries and followed Colin inside a kitchen that was much newer than his parents’ kitchen. Buster ran past them and stood near an empty dog dish. Lobo came inside to sit and watch Colin. The cozy kitchen held a huge fireplace built with large slabs of sandstone. Knotty-pine cabinets lined the walls. The kitchen formed an L-shaped room with the living area, which had bookcases, a pair of navy wing chairs, a maroon-and-navy sofa and another huge stone fireplace. The living area was paneled in pine, with louvered shutters at the windows. Beneath beamed ceilings, the room held the same cozy, rustic, masculine look as the kitchen.

“Make yourself at home,” Colin said, setting groceries on a long oak table. “There’s only one bedroom,” he added with a shrug, “but that sofa makes into a bed.”

Colin hung his coat on a peg by the door, motioning to her to do the same. “As soon as I light a fire in here and put away the groceries, I’ll give you a tour so you’ll know where everything is,” he said.

When she removed her coat, Katherine felt stiff and cold and wary. She watched while Colin Whitefeather put away his groceries, seeming to ignore her as if he had forgotten her presence, and she found his lack of attention to her reassuring, yet she was afraid to let down her guard.

He picked up a phone and after a few moments she gathered he must be talking to his ranch foreman. She hadn’t given much thought to other men on the place.