Close To Danger (Westen #4)(75)

“The one where you found him years ago?” She sounded out of breath, but kept right in step with him. Tromping through the snow had taken time and effort, even with her almost stepping right in his tracks. Yet, she hadn’t uttered one word of complaint. Exhaustion had to be hitting her, it was him.

Pausing he held up the low-hanging branch of an evergreen for her to pass by then dropped it behind them. Sheltered in this spot, he crouched down and took a few minutes to scan the path behind them letting them both catch their breath. The cabin looked okay. Whoever it was hadn’t hit the gas tanks, or the propane for the outdoor grill—yet. Would they do that if they’re gunfire failed to draw him and Chloe out the door?

“Do you see them?”

He shook his head. “No one moving, but I don’t know how long we’ve got—”

“Before they find our tracks?” she finished his thought. “Guess we best keep moving, now that I have my breathing under control.”

He wanted to pull her in his arms and kiss the hell out of her, reassure her they’d make it out of this.

Only he couldn’t. After that last mission, he swore he’d never again make a promise he couldn’t keep.

Another gun shot, more screaming followed it. Chloe was right. They needed to get moving.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN


A knock sounded on the kitchen door.

Praying it wasn’t an emergency, Dr. Clint Preston cradled his two-month old daughter in the crook of his arm and went to see who could possibly be out and about on this cold winter morning. His wife Emma had been up with Belle twice during the night, so he was on the early morning feeding detail. The twins sat at the eat-in counter, each downing their first bowl of oatmeal with blueberries in it. They always had two. Until he’d married the boys’ mother, he’d never knew two kids who liked oatmeal as much as his step-sons.

At the door, he found Earl standing on the porch, stomping his feet and blowing into his cupped hands to stay warm. Angling his body to keep Belle shielded from the wind, Clint opened, the door. “Earl, come on in out of the cold.”

“Thanks, Doc,” the older man said as he stepped inside and quickly closed the door behind him. “Wind’s starting to pick up again.”

“Sure is. Weatherman’s saying more snow is on our way. I was just getting the kids fed,” Clint said, sitting back at the counter and holding Belle up on his shoulder to burp her. “There’s oatmeal in the crockpot and blueberries in the bowl beside it if you want some breakfast.”

“Hi, Mr. Earl,” the twins said simultaneously with big grins. Growing up in the small town, there wasn’t anyone Ben and Brian didn’t know. And everyone seemed to know them, too.

“Hey, boys.” Earl grinned back at two red-heads. “That looks mighty tasty, but I already had breakfast over at the Peaches ’N Cream with Pete.”

“You aren’t feeling ill or anything are you?” Clint asked. “Not sleeping out in this cold weather, are you?”

“Yes, I mean, no, I’m feeling okay and Pastor Miller has me bunked down at the church, so it’s all good.” The older man shoved his hands in his coat pocket and looked around the room, nervous as a cat at a dog show.

Okay. Something’s up.

“Is there something I can do for you, Earl?” Clint asked, putting the baby over in her carrier seat.

“Well, not for me, no sir. It’s for the Sheriff.”

Clint waited.

Nothing more came.

“Gage asked you to come see me?” Clint prompted.

“Yes. He gave me a mission. I was to come see if you had the clinic open yet. You weren’t there, so I came on over here.” Earl stopped talking and swayed from one foot to the other.

“Why does Clint want to know if the clinic is open, Earl?” Clint asked as patiently as possible. From the day he first stitched up a cut on the other man’s arm, he’d learned that information came out in bits and pieces. He suspected it might have something to do with Earl’s injuries while in the military, possible PTSD and years of alcohol consumption.

“Said I’m to tell you that you might be getting some injured folks and I wasn’t to tell Mrs. Sheriff that I was talking to you.” All the words rushed out of him as if it took too long he’d forget it.

Mrs. Sheriff? Bobby.

“Why wouldn’t Gage want you to tell Bobby?” a soft voice said from the doorway.

Everyone looked over to see Emma standing there, already dressed in scrubs.

“I heard the knock,” she said before Clint could even ask, already headed for the coffee pot. “Earl, why aren’t we to tell Bobby?”

“He doesn’t want her worrying about her sister.”

Emma brought two mugs of coffee to the counter, setting one in front of Earl, then doctoring hers up with fancy creamer from the fridge. “So, Gage thinks Bobby’s sister might be in trouble and we might need to be at the clinic in case she’s hurt bad?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Earl said holding the mug in his hands as if to just warm them.

“Why would he think that?” Clint asked. Last he knew both Bobby’s sisters were more than a hundred miles away in Cincinnati, having left town right after the wedding.

“Guess I started it. Saw someone take a gun out the direction of Wes’s place,” Earl said as if it were an everyday occurrence, before drinking some of his coffee. “Then Harriett called to tell him she heard gunfire out that way, too.”