Mountain Moonlight - By Jane Toombs Page 0,45

I'm away."

"You said she had kittens."

"Sheba got it into her head that's what she wanted. You ever try to change a Siamese cat's mind? The people down the block had a Siamese male so we arranged a rendezvous. She hated him on sight but, after we left them alone together in my utility room overnight, Sheba changed her mind.

"The eventual result was five kittens. Believe me, after they're old enough to leave, Sheba gets spayed."

"Why? Did she get sick?"

He shook his head. "What she did was refuse to give birth to a single one of them unless I sat on the floor beside the box I'd fixed and talked to her while she had them. Hell, I was as nervous as a new father."

Vala chuckled. "So she didn't have any trouble."

"No, but I did. The third kitten she delivered was a lot smaller than the first two. Instead of washing it off like she'd done with the others, Sheba nosed it aside, delivered the fourth and proceeded to clean it up. Despite the fact I kept shoving the tiny one in her face, she refused to give it a single lick. Finally, when she'd cleaned the fifth, she decided I wasn't going to give up so she might as well accept the runt of the litter."

"Is it doing all right?"

"He. Feisty little thing despite his size and original non-acceptance. Sheba treats him now just like she does the others. I did some research and found animals often push the runt of a litter aside and let it die. A runt is likely to have defects and somehow they sense that."

"Sounds cold-blooded, but I suppose in the wild it'd be logical to give the bigger, healthier ones a better chance."

"Something like that." It gave him a pang when it came to him that Davis's father had behaved in just such a way to his own son. He hoped the thought wouldn't occur to Vala. Davis was definitely not a misfit to be cast aside.

Vala was surprised by a yawn. She hadn't realized she was getting tired. "Good night, she murmured.

"Good night, sweet princess," he told her, "I promise you won't hear a single ribbet from me all night."

She smiled at the frog reference, but refused to dwell on what she knew had inspired it. She'd never get to sleep if she did.

I wonder if he realizes he completely melted my heart with that story about Sheba, she asked herself. How many men would be so caring? None she knew well. Not her father and certainly not Neal.

How wonderful it would be if she could fall asleep in Bram's arms. He was near enough that she could, very faintly, smell his essence. Breathing it in, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself snuggled inside the sleeping bag with him, her head on his shoulder while he held her against him....

A cry woke Vala. It took her a moment to realize where she was and that what she'd heard was Davis. As she struggled to sit up, Bram's flashlight clicked on, its beam centered on her son who was muttering unintelligibly as he thrashed around in his sleeping bag.

Before she'd extricated herself from her own bag, Bram reached Davis and gathered him into his arms, sleeping bag and all. Half in and half out of her sleeping bag, she sat up and watched them.

"Hush," he murmured. "Everything's all right. Bram's here. Don't fight me. I won't let anything hurt you."

As Bram continued to soothe the boy, gradually Davis stopped struggling and lay quiet again.

"The pediatrician calls it a night terror," Vala said as Bram eased the boy and sleeping bag back down. "Davis has a bout every once in a while. It's something like a nightmare except the child doesn't wake up. The doctor said it can be related to sleep-walking but, thank heaven, Davis has never done that."

Belatedly she noticed that Bram wore a T-shirt and his undershorts to sleep in. A lot more revealing than her sweats.

"Will he have another bout tonight?" Bram asked.

She had to stop staring at him. "No, he never seems to do that. He should be okay till morning. Thanks for coping."

Bram, now focusing the beam of the flashlight up toward the tent roof, looked at her without speaking.

"What's the matter?" she asked, disturbed by his intent gaze.

"Never thought I'd find a gray sweat-shirt sexy," he muttered. "Better douse the damn light and crawl into my strait-jacket before it's too late." He clicked it off.

Her