“He wasn’t hurting me.” Though she was shaken to the core, Cassie stepped between them. “I was upset— Grandma upset me—and Sheriff MacKade was helping to make me feel better. I want you to apologize, this minute.”
Devin saw the boy’s arms drop, and knew when the angry flush on Connor’s cheeks turned to shame. With his eyes on the boy, he laid a hand on Cassie’s shoulder.
“I’d like to talk to Connor. Alone.” Anticipating her protest, he gave Cassie’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “Cass, the baby’s crying. Why don’t you and Emma go see to him?”
“Nate. I forgot.” At her wit’s end, Cassie dragged a hand through her hair.
“Why don’t you go on?” Devin said, giving her a gentle nudge. “Con and I are going to take a walk.”
“All right. Come on, Emma, Nate’s crying.” But she took a deep breath as she held out a hand for her daughter. “I expect you to apologize, Connor. You understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” With his chin on his chest, Connor turned to go outside.
He knew what was coming. He was going to get whipped. His father had always done the hitting away from the house, away where his mother couldn’t see and wouldn’t know. He’d get a b
eating now for sure, and it would be worse than anything his father had ever done to him. Because he’d tried to do what was right, and he’d been wrong.
Devin said nothing at all, just walked with the boy across the lawn, toward the woods that bordered it. He chose the path without thinking. The woods were as familiar to him as the town, as his own home, as his own mind. Beside him, Connor walked stiffly, his head drooped in shame, his back braced.
Because he knew he had to gauge his timing, and his moves, Devin resisted the urge to drape his arm over those thin little shoulders. Instead, he led the way down a path and stopped at the cluster of rocks where two soldiers had once met and doomed each other.
He sat, and the boy stood rigid and waiting.
“I’m awfully proud of you, Connor.”
The words—the last he’d expected to hear—had the boy’s head whipping up. “Sir?”
Casually Devin took out a cigarette—the first of a very long day. “I have to tell you, it’s a relief to me. I worry about your mother some. She’s had a bad time of it. Knowing you’re there to look after things, makes my mind a lot easier.”
Connor’s confusion was too huge for him to feel any pride. He stared at Devin, his eyes still wary. “I—I sassed you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’re not going to hit me?”
Devin’s hand stiffened, hesitated. Very slowly he tossed the barely smoked cigarette on the ground and crushed it under his heel. As he would have liked to crush Joe Dolin.
“I’m never going to raise my hand to you, not today, not any day.” He spoke deliberately, his eyes level with Connor’s, as a man would speak to another man. “I’m never going to raise it to your mama or to your sister.” But he held out that hand, and waited. “I’m giving you my word, Connor,” he said, when the boy simply stared at the hand being offered. “I’d be grateful if you’d take it.”
Dumbfounded, Connor put his hand in Devin’s. “Yes, sir.”
Devin gave the hand a little squeeze, tugged the boy a little closer. And grinned. “You’d have torn right into me, wouldn’t you?”
“I’d have tried.” The emotions swirling inside Connor were frightening. Most of all, he was afraid he would cry now and show Devin he was just a stupid little boy after all. “I never helped her before. I never did anything.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Connor.”
“I never did anything,” Connor repeated. “He hit her all the time, Sheriff. All the time.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. You only know about when one of the neighbors would call you, or when he’d get so drunk he’d hit her someplace where it would show. But there was more. It was worse.”
Devin nodded. There was nothing else he could do. And drew the boy down on the rocks beside him. “He hit you, too.”
“When she couldn’t see.” Bravery forgotten, Connor pressed his face into Devin’s side. “When she didn’t know.”
Devin stared off into the trees, eaten away by a useless anger at what he hadn’t been able to prevent. “Emma?”