Calder Brand - Janet Dailey Page 0,96
name is Mr. Joe Dollarhide. Is that your dog?”
“Uh-huh. His name’s Humdinger because that’s the kind of dog he is.”
“Well, he certainly is a humdinger.” Joe scratched the big mutt’s ears, then straightened. “I just came by to welcome the new teacher. Now I need to go. It was a pleasure meeting you both. And Humdinger, too.”
His eyes met Sarah’s. Her mouth formed the words Just go.
Without another word, Joe turned around and left by the front door. As the sounds of his horse faded, Sarah sank onto a chair. Her heart was pounding so loudly that she could barely hear Blake’s question.
“Mama, who was that man?”
She forced herself to speak. “Just a curious neighbor. I don’t think we’ll be seeing much of him. Come on, let’s get Humdinger’s leash and walk down to the store. Maybe they’ll know where we can buy some milk.”
* * *
Joe rode back up the wagon road, still reeling from his encounter with Sarah and her son—his son, stamped in his image, bright and well-mannered, and so appealing that as soon as the boy spoke, Joe had felt his heart begin to melt.
He loved Mason, his perfect little boy. But his love for the son he barely knew burned just as fiercely. And Sarah—she was all woman now, strong and beautiful, protecting her son like a lioness. Lord, how he wanted her.
Rusty had been right.
He had to leave them alone. Otherwise, the love he felt would burn him alive, and them with it—to say nothing of what it would do to Amelia and Mason.
He was coming up on the trail that turned off the wagon road and ended at his hilltop home. If he kept on the main road for another three miles, he would end up at the Hollister ranch. He’d spent time with Mason only yesterday. But his world had turned upside down since then. Maybe being with his family would remind him of his commitment to them, and his duty to make the right choices.
Seeing Mason was always a joy. But he didn’t look forward to another argument with Amelia—especially if she pressed him about allowing her to take their son to St. Louis for the winter.
But what if I were to let her? The forbidden thought whispered in his mind. It would leave me free to see Sarah, free to know my other son.
No! He forced the idea away. Allowing such a thing to happen would only lead to heartache, shame, and guilt. Now, more than ever, it was important that his wife and Mason stay here in Montana.
As he rode through the front gate and approached the house, he sensed that something wasn’t right. Mason was on the porch alone—something that wasn’t usually allowed. There was no sign of Amelia or anyone else outside, but the front door was standing partway open.
“Daddy!” Mason ran down the front steps, sounding more distressed than happy. Stopping the horse, Joe dismounted and picked up his son. His eyes were red, his small cheeks wet with tears.
“What is it, Mason? What’s the matter?” Carrying the boy next to his shoulder, Joe led his horse to the hitching rail and looped the reins.
“It’s Grandpa,” Mason whimpered. “He fell down. Mama can’t get him up.”
Instantly worried, Joe set the boy on the porch swing. “Stay right here while I go inside and help. Promise?”
“Promise.” Mason wiped his nose with his sleeve.
“That’s a big boy. I’ll come back as soon as I can.” Joe raced through the open front door and into the house.
In the study, he found Loren sprawled on the Turkish carpet. He was struggling to get up, but something was wrong. His speech was garbled, and his facial features had a lopsided appearance.
Amelia knelt beside him, pulling at his hands and stroking his face. “I tried to get him to a chair, but I couldn’t move him,” she said. “I don’t know what’s the matter.” She sounded scared, but she wasn’t weeping.
Joe knelt beside her, murmuring words of support to his father-in-law as he studied the stricken face. Loren was conscious but visibly confused and frightened. As he struggled to form words, a thread of spittle trailed from the corner of his mouth.
“It looks like a stroke.” Joe worked his hands under Loren’s shoulders, and, with Amelia’s help, got him into an armchair. Loren wasn’t a big man, but he was dead weight. “We’ll need to get him to the doctor in Miles City.”
“How much can the doctor do?” Amelia brushed the hair