She grabbed for his wrist. She missed. The knife slashed past her skirts. She screamed for Clint as loud as she could as Dan kicked the knife out of the boy's hand, bringing his foot back again.

She did the only thing she could think to do. She threw herself over the boy, wrapping herself around his scrawny, writhing body, and yelled, "Don't. Don't."

She closed her eyes and braced herself to take the kick. It glanced off her shoulder, much of the force gone.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n it, Mrs. McKinnely, get the h.e.l.l away from that filthy Indian."

The boy lay still beneath her. His bones so prominent they poked her through her clothes. She could feel the chill of his flesh against her hands. She opened her eyes.

He was staring back at her, his eyes such a deep brown that they were almost black. There was anger and hatredin his gaze, and somewhere way down deep beneath the negative, a flicker of hope.

"Get off me." At least he spoke English. Bri screamed, scared and alone, across the room. The boy frowned at her. In that instant he looked so familiar, she knew, knew who he was. Everything in her went hard with determination.

"No." She turned her head so she could meet Dan's eyes, pressing hard with her bad leg over the boy's thighs. She ignored the cramping pain that immediately commenced. "Don't touch my son."

"I know you got a soft heart and all, Mrs. McKinnely, but saying it doesn't make it so." Dan said.

"Yes it does." If she had to call in the McKinnely muscle, she was making it so.

Beneath her the boy froze, as if her words stole his ability to breathe. Across the room, Bri let loose with the full power of her lungs. Jenna didn't know what to do beyond what she was doing, so she held on and waited for inspiration to occur.

"That's one lowlife piece of sc.u.m you don't want to be laying claim to. He's been stealing from me for weeks." Dan reached down to help her up.

"Don't touch me and don't touch my son." Jenna hunched her shoulder away from his hand.

Again, Dan ignored her as if she hadn't spoken. HisAgain, Dan ignored her as if she hadn't spoken. His fingers curled around her upper arm, and the boy sprang to life, heaving her off. He was incredibly strong. As Dan lifted her, the boy struck, kicking him hard in the groin, and shoving her behind him. His filthy hair slapped her in the face as a string of threats fell from his mouth. She didn't know what he was saying, but she knew they were threats from the way he stood, ready to take on all comers, defending her. Dan got to his feet, his face red, murder in his eyes.

"Run!" Jenna pushed the boy aside.

He stumbled two steps and then pushed back, trying to get between her and Dan. She needed help. She needed Clint. She screamed for him as Dan lunged, reaching around her for the boy who was leaping forward to meet him.

She bit Dan's arm, pushing him back with all her might. Behind her the boy pressed forward, shoving Dan's hands away. Bri's screams mingled with hers as Dan grabbed her jaw.

"Dan, I'm trying to think real hard on why I shouldn't slit your throat, but I'm fast running out of reasons."

Jenna turned. Clint stood in the aisle, dwarfing the room, his black eyes flat and hard, his hand on the hilt of his big knife.

"Don't let him hurt my son, Clint," she begged, grabbing for the boy's arm. She caught the edge of hissleeve as he jumped at the sight of Clint. She couldn't blame him. Clint in a snit was as cold and as scary as it got.

Only by an arch of his brow did Clint register his surprise that she'd claimed the boy.

"The boy isn't her son," Dan growled. "He's a d.a.m.ned thief. Been stealing from me for weeks."

Clint's second eyebrow joined the first. "Did Jenna say the boy's our son?"

"Yes."

He looked over at Jenna. Nothing in his expression gave away what he was thinking. She clutched the boy's arm harder, her stomach sinking. As if he sensed her fear, the boy edged in front of her. Another quick arch of Clint's brow, a quirk of his lips, and maybe a hint of approval? He turned to Dan and shrugged. "Then it's so."

The boy broke free from her grip. Clint caught him as he sped by.

"Be careful!" Jenna cried, biting her lip as her leg gave, catching herself on the counter. "He's hurt."

Clint held him away from his body, letting him swing and curse, feet dangling off the floor. He glanced at Jenna. "Hurt?"

"Dan punched him in the stomach!""Stay." Clint lowered the boy's feet to the floor. The boy didn't move. Clint caught Jenna's hand and steadied her as he asked Dan, "You punched a kid in the stomach? My kid?"

"He tried to kick him, too," Jenna added.

"Tried?" Clint pushed Jenna behind him, keeping his eye on Dan.

"The kid pulled a d.a.m.ned knife," Dan interjected, as if that made a difference.

"Can't imagine why, when a grown man starts whaling on him."

"Jesus Christ, McKinnely." Dan glanced over his shoulder before stepping back. "He's a G.o.dd.a.m.n thief."

Behind him, Clint heard Jenna's outraged gasp. Her hands touched the small of his back. If she asked him to kill the guy he would, but she just stood there, her hands pressing into him, letting him make the decision, her anxiety surrounding him like a cloud.

"He's my son," Clint said, letting the cold calm that came with fury encase him. "There's no way he can be a thief."

"How the h.e.l.l do you figure that?"

"Because he can have any G.o.dd.a.m.n thing he wants."

Clint turned, caught Jenna's hand, and pointed her toward the door. A smudge on the shoulder of her cloakcaught his eye. He knew a boot print when he saw one.

The rage flashed bright and hot through his calm.

"You son of a b.i.t.c.h." He spun around, the room dissolving out of focus, his being concentrated on the only thing that mattered.

"It was an accident, Clint." Dan threw up his hands and took another step back.

"I don't care." Clint took two steps forward.

"She threw herself over the boy." Dan backed up against the counter. "I couldn't pull back."

"I don't care." Clint closed the gap between them.

Dan threw the first punch. Clint blocked it easily and sank his fist deep into the son of a b.i.t.c.h's stomach, in his mind picturing Jenna on the floor, her body shielding the boy, and the hulking b.a.s.t.a.r.d kicking her. Them. Using his size against a small woman and a half-starved boy.

Against his family.

He hit him again, and again, easily dodging the other man's attempts to fight back, knocking him back over the counter, following him over with an easy leap. The man didn't get up, just lay there hands up, admitting defeat.

The urge to put a bullet in his brain was almost irresistible.

"Clint." Jenna's voice seeped through the anger.

"Go wait outside."There was a pause and then, "No."

He turned, his hair whipping over his shoulder.

"No?"

She stood there, her hands clenched before her, her lip between her teeth, visibly pale and shaking, and defied him again.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's enough. I want to go home. Our daughter and son are hungry and I refuse to let them suffer while you amuse yourself."

"Amuse myself?" He straightened. "I'm avenging you."

"No. You're angry and taking it out on others.

Avenging me would stop at a punch or taking your business elsewhere."

"And how would you know?"

"Because that would be fair." Fair? The woman hadn't known a day of fair in her whole life, and suddenly she was an expert?

"What are you telling me, Sunshine?"

"I want to go home, Clint. I want to take my children and my husband, and I want to go home." Her big blue eyes shimmered with fear and a need that tore a hole in his chest.Where she felt safe. He understood. d.a.m.n, he'd wanted this trip into town to be good for her. He glanced down at Dan. "If you touch my wife or kids again, I'll gut you. And I'll take my time about it, too."

"Jesus, Clint, it was an accident."

"There are no accidents when it comes to my family."

"I didn't know the kid belonged to you."

The man actually believed that made a difference.

That there was ever an excuse for a grown man to beat on a kid. He glanced over at the skinny excuse for a boy who was holding Bri. The boy who'd done his best to put himself between Jenna and Dan. The family resemblance between Bri and the boy was strong.

"He was just hungry, Dan."

"It's not my job to feed the world."

"No, it's not." Clint settled his Stetson back on his head. "You can send the final settlement of my accounts to my house."

He walked around the counter. Jenna reached him as he rounded the corner, her arms going aground him. She hugged him as if he were hurt and needed soothing. The softness of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed into his stomach as her cheek rested against his chest. He cupped her head in his hand and pulled her closer. Let the softness of her ease over him, soothing the beast that prowled within, filling the dark hole that housed his rage."I'm sorry, baby."

"How did you know to come?" Her hands stroked his back.

"Eloise."

"Dan sent her for the sheriff."

"She fetched me instead."

"Oh."

"Did he hurt you?" He touched her shoulder lightly over the smudge, probing gently.

"No, but I think Bri's brother is hurt."

"We'll take him to Doc's. Dorothy will fix him a good meal."

"He needs it." She propped her chin on his chest, much more comfortable with his nearness now. "He's so skinny."

He could tell that offended her personally. "He'll fill out with a few square meals under his belt."

"I hope so." A pause and then, "Do you mind?"

He kissed her lips. "No. But I do mind you getting hurt."

"I couldn't let him kick him."

"You could have waited."

"Would you?"

"No. But I'm a man.""And I'm a woman."

"My woman."

"Yes." She leaned back, "I know he was stealing but he obviously doesn't have anyone to care for him."

"I said I didn't mind." He kissed her again, longer this time, breathing in her scent and her generous spirit as he did.

The boy stared at them across the aisle, suspicion, aggression, and challenge in his dark gaze. He looked so much like Cougar had when he'd blown into town almost twenty years ago that Clint couldn't help but smile.

"I think the boy and I will get along just fine."

Chapter Eighteen.

"Nice-looking boy you've got there," Asa said, joining Clint on Doc's porch, his collar turned up against the evening chill.

Clint looked through the window to where Dorothy was forcing another piece of pie on the kid. Nothing offended Dorothy more than an underfed male. "For all the fuss he made about taking that bath, he did clean up well."

Asa touched the bruise on his cheek which he'd gotten while escorting Gray to the tub. "A fighter to the bone, that one."