Clark wiggled both eyebrows and laughed as he walked out.
“Besides,” Winnie told her best friend, “Kilraven doesn’t like me.”
Keely had doubts about that, but she didn’t say a word. She just smiled.
Winnie helped her get into a flower-print ankle-length cotton gown with short puffy sleeves and a high neckline. She winced at the scars. “You poor thing,” she said with genuine sympathy. “It must have been so painful!”
Keely lost her self-consciousness at that expression. “Most people would have said how horrible it looks. Yes, it was terrible. The first few days were the worst of my life. And then, even when it started healing, there were the scars.” She shivered and leaned back into the pillows with a sigh. “But I guess it was really a blessing in disguise, because Jock had just gotten out of prison after two years, and he came on to me the day he got back. The scars were all that saved me from him. He thought I was repulsive.” She looked at Winnie meaningfully. “I was thirteen years old,” she said bitterly.
Winnie sat down on the bed beside her and squeezed her hand. “Some men are animals,” she said gently. “Men used to come on to me when I went to parties because they knew who I was, who my family was. They didn’t really want me, they wanted the wealth and power I had access to. Boone spent a lot of time making threats.” She laughed. “That’s why I like working for the emergency management center,” she added. “Some of the newer people don’t even know I come from a wealthy background. They treat me like everybody else. It’s flattering.”
Keely was curious. “Kilraven knows who you are.”
Winnie nodded. She frowned. “It’s odd, isn’t it, that he doesn’t seem to mind.” She hesitated, looking down at her lap. “But most of the time he treats me just like he does the other dispatchers.”
“I’ve always dreamed about Boone,” Keely said. “I never thought he might feel the same way about me.”
Winnie laughed. “I had a hunch about that when he went off and beat up the private detective,” she mused. “That’s not like Boone. It wasn’t just guilt, either. He may think you’re too young, Keely, but he seems to have come to grips with your age.”
Keely smiled. “I’m old for my age,” she said drily.
“And I’ll say amen to that!”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BOONE CAME HOME dusty and worn-out, having helped move steers from summer pasture into the holding pens nearby, where they’d be held until they could be shipped to a feedlot for finishing as yearlings.
It was a long, arduous process, and somebody always got hurt. Fortunately, Keely noted, it wasn’t Boone.
“You pay your foreman a fortune to do that job, and then you go out and work like you’re him,” Winnie fussed as he came into Keely’s bedroom after he’d showered.
“I’m not cut out for the life of a gentleman of leisure,” he pointed out, smiling. “How’re you doing, sprout?” he asked Keely.
“Much better,” she assured him. “Have you heard anything from Hayes Carson?”
He shook his head. “He’ll get back in touch with us when he’s got something to say. Meanwhile, stop worrying. You’re safe here.”
She smiled. “I know. It wasn’t that. I just wondered.”
“I’m starved,” he told Winnie. “When are we eating?”
“Mrs. Johnston’s outdone herself,” Winnie replied with a grin. “Beef stew and Mexican corn bread.”
“Worth working all day for,” he said. “I’ll bring yours up,” he told Keely.
“I could come downstairs,” she began.
“Not until Coltrain says you can,” he replied firmly. “We don’t want a relapse, now, do we?”
“I guess not. My arm’s better, though,” she said, moving it gingerly. “The swelling’s gone down a lot.”
“Damned snake,” he muttered.
“That’s exactly what I said when it happened,” Keely assured him.
He grinned. “You do look better.” His eyes slid over the flowered gown. They were bold and possessive.
* * *
THE MEMORY OF that look kept her occupied all through supper. He’d brought it himself, on a tray, to the amusement of Winnie, Clark and Mrs. Johnston, who added a flower in a vase to the tray.
After supper, Winnie went straight to her bedroom to change clothes. Clark went out. Boone changed into pajamas and a robe and came walking into Keely’s bedroom with a file folder in his hand, reading glasses on and a pencil over one ear. He piled into bed with Keely, propping himself up on two of the mound of pillows Mrs. Johnston had brought her. He proceeded to open the folder and read.
Keely was fascinated. “What are you doing?”
“Working on printouts of the breeding program that our cow-and-calf foreman brought me,” he told her. “We breed for certain traits, like low birth weight and lean conformation, and we use computers to make projections for us.” He showed her the information on the pages.
“No. I mean…I mean, what are you doing in here, like that?” She indicated his pajamas and robe.
He gave her a conspiratorial grin. “I’m sleeping with you.”
“You are not!” she gasped. “In the first place, I can’t—”
“Sleeping,” he emphasized. “You close your eyes and the next thing you know, it’s morning.”
She relaxed a little, but she was still wary.
“All the doors are open,” he pointed out, nodding toward the hall. “They’ll stay open. Nobody will notice that I’m in here.”
Winnie walked past the doorway and smiled. She stopped suddenly, turned and stared.
Boone glowered at her. “What’s the matter with you?” he asked his sister. “Haven’t you ever seen a man in pajamas and a robe before?”
“You’re in bed with Keely,” she stated. “She’s still fragile,” she added worriedly.
“That’s true, but her father’s friend is something of an escape artist,” he agreed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn-looking Smith & Wesson .38 caliber police special. He put it up again. “Nobody’s getting past me.”
Winnie stopped looking shocked and began to grin. “I get it.”
“Good. While you’re getting things, how about getting Bailey and
