Babes In Arms. Sara Orwig

take this,” Nadine urged, thrusting a warm sealed plastic container into Katherine’s hands. “It’s chili. Colin can cook, but he has a limited menu.”

      “Thank you, Mrs. Whitefeather,” Katherine said, turning to look at his mother. “It was nice to have met you.”

      “It was nice to meet you, Katherine. I hope things work out for you.”

      “Thank you,” Katherine repeated, startled and realizing Colin must have said something about her to his mother when they first arrived. She opened the back door and crossed the porch, seeing Colin waiting.

      As they stepped off the porch, she slid on the ice. Instantly Colin Whitefeather’s arm went around her waist to steady her. His arm was a strong band, nothing more than a friendly, helpful gesture, yet a chilly withdrawal gripped her.

      “Thanks,” she said, trying not to stiffen and make him aware of her reaction. “I’ll be all right,” she said, pulling away. He took her arm firmly and she had to fight the urge to shake free of his grip.

      In minutes they were back in the truck, the chili on the seat between them. “Your folks are very nice,” she said quietly. nervousness increasing at the thought of being shut away in a blizzard with a total stranger who was a strong male and a cop.

      “I moved back to Oklahoma so I can help Dad, although he doesn’t need me often. The men who work for me help out over here, too.”

      Riding in silence, they crept to the section line and then turned east and Katherine couldn’t see any road. They were going little over ten miles an hour and the sleet was still coming down.

      “Lines will be down in this one,” Colin said, wiping the windshield with the back of his hand. Seemingly in the middle of nowhere, the truck bounced over a cattle guard. He slowed to a halt and climbed out.

      “Be right back. Want to close the gate,” he shouted and slammed the door while a flurry of white flakes tumbled over the car seat and melted.

      Turning around, she wiped the window and saw he was swinging closed a large gate and padlocking it. Without a word he climbed back into the truck and put it into gear, driving slowly. They crept through an endlessly white world with a blinding lack of color and snow-covered objects that mesmerized and confused.

      She shivered, wondering about his past, worrying about the present. She would be alone with him, miles from anyone, caught in a storm. She shivered and rubbed her arms, telling herself to stop being such an idiot.

      Finally through the tumbling snow the darker bulk of a building loomed up. As they drove closer, she saw the house and attached garage. Pressing the garage-door opener, he waited while the door slid open. Fear wrapped around her more tightly than the coat she pulled close.

      They entered a three-car garage that had an empty space, a Jeep and a space for the pickup. The noise of sleet hitting the truck dimmed to a staccato sound peppering the garage roof.

      When the engine died, Colin climbed out. With a mounting reluctance, Katherine slowly opened the pickup door. They were in a large garage that adjoined a house. A black shadow dashed from a corner, followed by a great, shaggy gray dog. She gasped, her heart thudding and then calming as Colin Whitefeather turned to pet the animals. “This is Buster. The wolf is Lobo.”

      She was still in the pickup and she eyed the dogs. “He’s really a wolf?” she asked, trying to take time to deal with her fear. The animal had to be a wolf. She gazed into yellow predator eyes. He had long legs and thick gray fur and his ears cocked forward as he studied her. “You’re certain it’s safe for me to get out? They look ferocious.”

      “They’re lambs. And they know if I brought you in my car, you’re my guest.” He gave a short whistle and both dogs trotted to him. He petted them a few seconds. “Sit.”

      Both animals sat down. “They won’t bite. I promise.”

      She climbed out of the pickup. “They don’t have to sit. I’m just on edge.” She patted her knee as an invitation to them.

      “Good dogs,” he said and they ran to her to mill around her. Katherine petted them, scratching their ears. “They’re beautiful animals.”

      “Buster is a Border collie and Lobo is just what his name implies. I found him when he was a pup and I was up north. He was hurt and I brought him home with me.”

      “So you take in strays often, Colin Whitefeather,” she remarked, giving him a faint smile.

      He shook his head. “You two are it,” he said, gathering sacks into his arms.

      Doubting his last remark, she picked up the chili and a sack of groceries and followed Colin inside a kitchen that was much newer than his parents’ kitchen. Buster ran past them and stood near an empty dog dish. Lobo came inside to sit and watch Colin. The cozy kitchen held a huge fireplace built with large slabs of sandstone. Knotty-pine cabinets lined the walls. The kitchen formed an L-shaped room with the living area, which had bookcases, a pair of navy wing chairs, a maroon-and-navy sofa and another huge stone fireplace. The living area was paneled in pine, with louvered shutters at the windows. Beneath beamed ceilings, the room held the same cozy, rustic, masculine look as the kitchen.

      “Make yourself at home,” Colin said, setting groceries on a long oak table. “There’s only one bedroom,” he added with a shrug, “but that sofa makes into a bed.”

      Colin hung his coat on a peg by the door, motioning to her to do the same. “As soon as I light a fire in here and put away the groceries, I’ll give you a tour so you’ll know where everything is,” he said.

      When she removed her coat, Katherine felt stiff and cold and wary. She watched while Colin Whitefeather put away his groceries, seeming to ignore her as if he had forgotten her presence, and she found his lack of attention to her reassuring, yet she was afraid to let down her guard.

      He picked up a phone and after a few moments she gathered he must be talking to his ranch foreman. She hadn’t given much thought to other men on the place.

      “Bud,” Colin said, “tell the others that I locked the gate and I’ll turn on the alarm tonight. I brought a guest home with me, and some guys are after her. They look dangerous,” he said, finally turning to give her a level look.

      It sounded worse to hear him talk about the men after her.

      “If any of you see strangers, be careful and get word to me at once. They’re armed, so the men better be prepared. Any shooting starts, call 911 as quickly as you can.”

      She rubbed her arms, wondering how many men she had placed in danger by coming home with him.

      “Sure, I will. No one can get through in this. I let the dogs out. Good. Thanks. See you in the morning.” He replaced the receiver.

      “I’ve brought danger to you and to others,” she said quietly.

      “I want them to be aware of the danger, but they can take good care of themselves and those goons aren’t after any cowboys. Don’t worry about it.”

      As if he had dismissed the whole thing from his mind, he squatted in front of the fireplace to stack logs for a fire. She watched him work and knew she should relax. The man was ignoring her most of the time, but she couldn’t let down her guard.

      “C’mon.” he said when a fire blazed. “Tour time.” He left the kitchen and she followed, keeping her purse at her side, feeling wary of him even though he sounded pleasant.

      He led her down a wide hall and he motioned at an open door. “Here’s the one bathroom,” he said. “Towels are in the cabinet.”

      She glanced inside, aware she had to move within inches of him. She peeked into a room done in maroon-and-navy decor with an old-fashioned footed tub and an open door to her left that probably led to his bedroom.

      She was aware of standing too close to Colin Whitefeather. He was a tall man, tall enough to make her look up