Texas Heroes_ Volume 1(123)

He stopped, dead-still, then reached down to pick up an object, his heart both sinking and rising fast. He turned and held it out to Perrie.

“Oh, no,” she gasped. “Davey’s bear.” Her gaze shot up to his. “He would never let this go if he—”

Mitch grasped her arm, pulled her into his chest. “Stop thinking the worst, Perrie. It’s a good sign. Explains why his tracks have been circling so oddly the last few yards. He must have dropped it and spent time looking for it. The tracks are fresh.”

“Davey!” she called out, her voice ringing off the mountainside. “Where are you?”

No answer. “Let me,” he said. He called out, too, but only silence met them.

“Oh, Mitch, it’s getting darker by the minute.”

“Which is why we have to keep looking. Come on.”

Blanking his mind to anything but the trail, Mitch studied the rocks, the bushes, and the ground. Finally, one trail branched off from the maze of tracks near the wooden bear. With long strides, Mitch followed it, reaching back for Perrie’s hand to pull her along.

Finally he saw it. And blessed Perrie for buying the boy a bright red coat. But the mound of red wasn’t moving, and Mitch’s heart leapt to his throat.

He wished he could make Perrie stay back until he took a look. If something had happened…

He never wanted her to have to live, night after night, with the sight branded into her brain like the vision he had in his, of his mother, blonde hair running red with blood—

“Stay here,” he ordered.

“What?”

“Let me look first.”

“Wha—oh, God—” She took off running.

Mitch passed her, reaching Davey first and using his body to shield her from the sight.

He could barely feel her hands clawing at his shoulder, too lost in the thumping of his heart, the pounding rush of blood in his veins as he turned Davey over—

Blue eyes opened slowly. And smiled sleepily. “Mitch!”

For the rest of his life, Mitch would take all the bad luck Fate wanted to sling his way, as payment for the joy shooting through his veins now. He pulled Davey up into his arms and brought Perrie around, including her, too. For a moment, the three of them clung, like shipwreck survivors.

The tree before Mitch blurred. He couldn’t find his voice to ask the routine questions.

Perrie pulled away and asked them first. “Are you hurt?” Frantically, she felt over her child’s head, his limbs, his torso.

Davey looked groggy and confused. “I was just asleep. I got so tired and I couldn’t figure out how to get back, so I decided to rest for a minute…” His face fell. “I lost my bear, Mitch,” he whispered. “And Mom says we have to leave and there’s no time for you to make me another one. I’m so sorry—” Tears welled in his eyes, and he threw himself back into Mitch’s arms. “I don’t want to leave you. I thought if I hid in the woods, you’d have time to come back and you could help me convince Mom that we should stay.” He pulled away, his small hands framing Mitch’s face. “I wish you could be my dad, Mitch. I don’t want to go. Tell Mom we can stay—please.”

If someone had slammed a two-by-four against his head, Mitch couldn’t feel more disoriented.

Perrie gasped and reached for her son. “Sweetie, don’t say that. You can’t just ask Mitch to be your father.”

“Why not?”

Why not, indeed? Mitch’s mind whirled. The boy’s words ricocheted around in his head, rocketing past the adrenaline rush and all the emotions he’d felt when he’d thought the boy was—

Mitch didn’t know what to say. Or feel. Davey’s dad. He closed his eyes. Oh, God. How fine that would be.

If only Davey’s mother wanted him, too.

Perrie watched him struggle. When he didn’t answer Davey, a cold ball lodged in her chest.

She took refuge in action. “Let’s get you back to the cabin. We—that is, I—” Her eyes stung.

Then she got mad. “You scared us to death, young man,” she scolded. “Don’t you ever—” Her voice broke, and she turned away.

“You promised me you wouldn’t wander off by yourself,” Mitch reminded the boy. “If a man’s word is no good, then he can’t call himself a man.”

Davey’s lower lip trembled. “I didn’t mean to get lost.”

Mitch didn’t relent. “You still left without telling anyone where you were going.”

Her son’s voice grew smaller. “I’m sorry, Mitch.”

“Your mom is the one who deserves your apology. She takes good care of you, and this is a poor way to treat someone who loves you.”