Honey stumbled backward, her gaze burning his for a long moment before she hurried toward the voice. Montague disappeared with her, a low rumble rolling from his throat.
Daniel sidled against the wall.
“What were you doing back there?” Suspicion tinted the marshal’s curiosity.
Daniel held his breath. He hadn’t misread anyone in a long, long time, but if he’d misjudged the angel…
“Montague was sniffing something. I didn’t want him to roll in it.”
The trapped air left Daniel’s lungs in a cheek-puffing gust.
“He’s a stray dog. Probably rolled in worse.” A boot scuffed dirt twice more.
A canine growl, quiet but distinct, bunched Daniel’s brows and narrowed his eyes.
“Montague, hush. What did Captain Dunleavy say this morning?”
“He’s out of patience…and we’re out of time.”
“I won’t go to the Nueces Strip.” Thin as water, that honey. “Find somewhere else.”
“I’ve tried. It’s the only choice we have.”
Two snapping barks bounced off the alley walls.
“Shut up, you mangy mutt.”
Quiet filled the deepening darkness for too long. Daniel pressed closer to the bars.
“We’re both tired. Let’s be done with this. You know I’ll protect you. I love you.”
Despite the tenderness in the words, delicate footsteps inched toward the jail’s window. Heavier steps followed.
A warning rumble sent boots scraping backward.
“Call him off.” Leather creaked.
The rumble ratcheted into a fierce growl.
“Montague, it’s okay, baby.”
No, it wasn’t. Daniel’s heart thumped his ribs.
“Call him off.”
An explosive snarl ripped through the alleyway.
A gunshot split the air.
Honey shrieked.
Daniel’s heart stopped.
“Dammit.” The hiss left dead silence in its wake.
Staggering steps reeled away; stopped.
Then retreated in a rush.
Daniel’s pulse jumped to life, bringing with it a tremble he tried and failed to subdue. He licked dry lips with a sandpaper tongue. “Honey, talk to me.” Dammit, that strangled croak would never reach her.
He jammed his cheek against iron, bruising bone, and threw a plea as far as he could. “Say something.” Anything.
A pain-filled canine whimper hit his ears like a second gunshot.
Then, even louder, a kind of misery he’d hoped never to hear again.
The desperation in the sound slashed him open top to bottom: a honey-voiced angel’s whole-body tears.
Chapter Six
Had familiar footsteps not attended Henry’s emergence from the kitchen, Winnie would have been tempted to believe a walking stick had come to life. His black suit fading into the night, he padded across the dining room, slid a chair from beneath the table, and sank onto the seat, facing her. Gnarled fingers wrapped her hands. Whether to stop his from shaking or offer comfort, she didn’t know.
His gentle squeeze chased some of the chill that had been her constant companion for two days. “Don’t you worry none, gal. Montague’s a tough ol’ critter. Them Gunderson folks, they’ll take real good care of all them dogs. The missus done already let that li’l raggedy one in the house.”
At last Miss Muffet had found a tuffet. “I hope…” Sniffles thinned her voice. “I hope they gave her a bath first.”
Henry leaned close, peering into her face. “These tired ol’ eyes don’t see so well no more, but ’pears to me you ain’t done cryin’ yet.”
She bit her lip. For a man with failing eyesight, Henry saw better than most in Injun Creek. That was fortunate for her…and unfortunate for Roy.
“He’s sick nigh to death with love for you, gal.”
“What’s happened to him, Henry? I don’t recognize him anymore.”
Shoulders drooping more than usual, the old man stared at their joined hands. “Ain’t sure he recognizes hisself.”
Dashing tears from one cheek, then the other, she rose and insisted leaden feet carry her to the counter at the back of the room. The match lit on the first strike, and the lantern bloomed into life. “Did you leave the wagon out back?”
“Yes’m. Saddle horse, too. Had a devil of a time findin’ my way back from the ol’ home…” The word trailed off in the middle, as though he searched for the correct term in a foreign language. “The ol’ home place. No moon out there. Ain’t nobody gonna see nothin’.”
She rubbed her eyebrow on a jerky nod; sniffled again.
Soft steps crept up behind her. The light press of a palm warmed her shoulder. Henry released a heavy breath that, for the first time in a long while, didn’t carry the combustible fumes of hard liquor. “I done a poor job of watchin’ after my wife and daughter. But I ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you.”
A slow pivot brought her around to face the ghost of a giant who still bled from scarred-over wounds. Flickering lamplight turned the gray in his hair to brittle brass. Guilt and grief had worn away the rest of him, too, yet a tender heart still beat within an otherwise empty shell.