Big Sky Mountain - By Linda Lael Miller Page 0,109

out to impress the new preacher.

When he stepped out into the sunlight, though, it was Boone he saw, getting out of his squad car. Both boys tumbled out from behind the grate that separated the front seat of the cruiser from the back, grinning a howdy at Hutch.

He chuckled and gave them each a light squeeze to the shoulder—they were dressed up, and it saddened him a little, because these were probably their traveling clothes. Boone had said they’d be leaving today, but Hutch hadn’t given the matter much thought until now.

“They want to say goodbye to you before they catch the bus back to Missoula,” Boone said, looking as lame as he sounded. He was wan, and he hadn’t shaved, and Hutch would have sworn the man was wearing the same set of clothes he’d had on yesterday at the rodeo.

The taller boy, Griff, looked solemn. “We don’t want to leave,” he said. “But Dad says we have to.”

“Uncle Bob is our dad,” the smaller one, Fletch, insisted staunchly.

Hutch stole a sidelong glance at Boone’s face and saw that his friend looked as though he’d just been sucker-punched, square in the gut. He waited for Boone to correct the boy, to claim him, as it were, but he didn’t do that.

“Well,” Hutch said, holding on to his grin because it was threatening to slip away, “I hope you’ll come back for another visit real soon.”

Griff’s dark brown eyes were bright with angry sorrow as he looked up at Hutch. Something in his expression begged him to step in, change the direction of things, get Boone to see reason, to understand what he was throwing away just because he was scared.

The backs of Hutch’s own eyes stung like fire; he hated the helplessness he felt. Bottom line, it was Boone’s call whether the boys stayed or went, and he had no right to interfere—not in front of them, at least.

He’d have plenty to say to Boone in private, when he got the chance.

Boone consulted his watch. “We’d better go,” he said without looking at his sons. “You don’t want to miss the bus.”

“Yes, we do,” Griff argued. “We want to stay here with you, Dad.”

“No, we don’t,” Fletch put in, but his lower lip wobbled and his eyes glistened.

Boone sighed, and his gaze met Hutch’s. Help me out, here, will you? That was what his expression said, as clearly as if he’d spoken aloud.

“You know what I think,” Hutch replied carefully, quietly. “And you can be sure we’ll discuss it later.”

Fletch wasn’t through talking, evidently. He tensed, like he was thinking about kicking Boone square in the shin, looked up at him, squinting against the sun and his whole body trembling, blurted, “You don’t want us anyway! You can’t wait to get rid of us!”

Boone went pale and, after unclenching the hinges of his jaws, he replied, “We’ve already had this discussion, Fletcher.” He paused, shook his head, tossed a grim, thanks-for-nothing look Hutch’s way. “Get in the car, both of you.”

After one last imploring look at Hutch, Griff put his hand to his little brother’s back and shoved him in the direction of the squad car.

“Damn it, Boone, this is wrong,” Hutch growled, as soon as the boys were inside the vehicle again, with the doors shut. “Sending those kids away is the same thing as saying straight out that Fletch has it right, you don’t want them.”

Boone looked at him in stricken silence and for a long time, but in the end, he didn’t answer. He just gave a curt nod of farewell, turned his back and walked away.

Hutch watched the retreating squad car until it was clean out of sight.

Then he went inside the house and, with Leviticus close on his heels, wandered uselessly from room to room, too restless to light anywhere and do anything constructive.

When he’d vented some of the steam that had been building up in him since Boone’s visit, he took a shower, put on fresh clothes and headed for town in the new truck he’d decided to go ahead and buy.

He still intended to keep his distance from Kendra, much as he wanted to walk right up to her and tell her straight out that he still loved her—had never stopped loving her—and meant to marry her if she’d have him.

But he knew all too well what she’d say—that they’d just gotten “carried away,” up there on the mountainside. That he was still on the rebound from Brylee and in no position