Dakota Child. Linda Ford

clutched the baby to her chest and prayed to be able to save him from this savage pair.

      Chapter Two

      He saw the way she jolted. Knew she’d figured out who they were. Knew, too, what direction her thoughts took. He’d heard the comments often enough, seen hands raised to mouths to unsuccessfully hide a whisper. Everyone thought the Blacks were mad and dangerous. He’d long ago given up trying to prove otherwise, no longer cared what people thought so long as they left him and Ma alone. Though, if he could convince just one person it wasn’t true, it would be the woman standing wide-eyed with fear not inches from his elbow.

      But he didn’t have time to deal with that right now. Ma was about to explode before his very eyes. She didn’t handle strangers well, never let anyone in her house.

      Ma choked off another screech, sent Vivian another fear-filled look, then glared at Billy. “Why’d you bring her?” She poked her mittened hand toward the woman as if she could drive her away. “Get out.”

      “Ma, it’s okay. It’s only until the storm lets up.”

      He couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t go from an ordinary housewife to this raving creature when anything upset her routine, though he guessed before she’d been captured by Indians, she’d been perfectly normal. However, he was too young at the time to remember.

      Ma cranked around.

      Sensing her intention, Billy strode for the door. Only the fact she struggled with the latch allowed him to get there before she opened it. He took her hands. “Ma, what are you doing?”

      “Let me go.” Her voice was thin and high-pitched.

      “Ma, you can’t go out. It’s storming.” He took her restless hands, guided her to the kitchen area and pulled out a chair. He tried to ease her down, persisting until she gave in and sat. As soon as he released her, she jerked the chair around so she gave her back to the woman.

      Ma hadn’t even glanced at the baby. Maybe if she did…For some unknown reason, he wanted Ma and Vivian to be friends. A little jeering finger jabbed inside his thoughts. In a mocking voice, it insisted Billy knew the reason. But Billy had grown very good at ignoring things he couldn’t do anything about, and he shut out the voice.

      “Ma, there’s a tiny baby. You want to see him?”

      For answer, she started to rock.

      He took that for no. For himself, he could barely take his eyes off the little critter. He’d nursed every kind of baby animal—kittens, puppies, a fawn, several kinds of birds, the usual calves and colts. But he’d never seen a bitty-sized human. Tiny little fingers and toes, a kiss of a mouth, ears that folded like spring buds, legs no bigger than his little finger. New life was such a miracle of God’s powerful love and creative power. But this replica of humanity took his breath away. Everything in perfect tiny detail. He knew a protectiveness stronger than he’d ever known before. He thought of the few minutes when he’d held Vivian in his arms, plowing through the storm toward home. He hadn’t known it was her until he dropped her in the chair but he remembered the almost nothingness weight of her, the way she had fought so bravely and then the sweetness of her head pressed to the hollow of his shoulder as she huddled against the cold. He curled his fists. He was being fanciful and tried to remember how to push his thoughts beyond acknowledgment.

      It took a few seconds for him to succeed, then he shifted his attention to Vivian. He liked the way she cradled the baby to her, though perhaps as much out of fear as any other reason. Everyone was afraid of the Blacks.

      However, good or bad, she was stuck here until the storm ended. Just as Ma was stuck with the uninvited pair.

      “I guess you figured out who we are.” Seeing her again made him wish for a heartbeat his life was different. Only half a heartbeat, really.

      The woman nodded. “I remember you from school.”

      “Didn’t know if you’d recall.” He’d gone to school less than two weeks before he figured out he wasn’t exactly welcome. He recalled only one person who had treated him kindly. He’d almost decided to continue to face his tormentors in order to see her—Vivian Halliday. Looks to be she was now other than Halliday. Married with a baby. With a practiced hand, he pushed aside any hint of regret. He only hoped she was happy.

      “You’re Billy Black.”

      “Huh.” He was surprised she didn’t call him Big Billy Black. It was the only way he’d ever heard his name said in town.

      “You probably don’t remember me. I was barely twelve last time I was in Quinten. Vivian Halliday.”

      She’d called herself Halliday. Perhaps an unconscious slip of the tongue.

      “I remember.” He’d recognized her the instant her eyelids snapped open and he looked into coffee-brown eyes revealing fear, and lots more besides. He saw flickers of the determination and gentleness he remembered from school. How often he’d thought of her and wondered how she fared.

      He hadn’t even realized she was gone at first, though he wondered that he never managed to glimpse her. ’Course, he avoided town as carefully as he avoided crossing paths with a skunk. Only necessity drove him to venture in by way of alleys.

      It was Lucas, the man at the general store, who served him at the back door, who told him of the Halliday’s misfortune.

      “Mr. and Mrs. Halliday were among those who died in the flu epidemic. Their daughter went to an orphanage.”

      Remembering what happened to Vivian, Billy’s fists still clenched. He would have given her a home. A curl of amusement lifted one corner of his mouth. Yeah, he could see anyone agreeing to that.

      Best he face the situation head-on. “I guess you know what everyone else knows. That I’m too big to be trusted and Ma is crazy.”

      Vivian shifted her gaze from Ma to him. He saw the same compassion tucked beneath her fear that he’d seen eight years ago and had never been able to forget. Somewhere beyond the reach of his control, long-denied yearnings tossed rebellious heads reminding him of all the things he couldn’t have—and somehow they all centered in this particular woman. He did his best to ignore the treacherous thoughts. She had always been out of reach and now even more so as a married woman. He had only one concern—keeping her safe until she could get back to her home.

      As if aware no one watched her, Ma bolted to her feet and made a break for the door.

      Billy didn’t need to hurry to beat her to it. He leaned against the wooden barrier and crossed his arms over his chest. It about killed him to see her this way. What people didn’t know was she didn’t act crazy all the time. Only when something upset her bad, and nothing upset her like having a stranger close by. Couldn’t get much closer than in her own house. She must be knotted up inside like an old hunk of neglected rope. He hated opposing her but he had to make sure Ma wouldn’t hurt herself.

      “Let me go.” Ma’s words were breathless as if forced from forgetful lungs.

      “You ain’t going into the storm.”

      Ma darted a glance out of the corner of her eye, indicating the stranger in their midst. “Can’t stay here. You know what they say.”

      He knew. Had heard more’n he cared to. “Crazy Indian woman.” “Unnatural giant.” Neither was true. No one, not even he, knew what Ma had suffered in captivity but she had been a good and affectionate mother since her return. And Billy didn’t figure he was that big. He’d met a couple of muleskinners even bigger.

      “She’s got to stay until the storm ends. She and the little one. They’d die outside.”

      Ma nodded. “I know. But I can’t stay. I can’t stay.”

      He led her back to the chair. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t bother you.” He waited until his mother settled before he threw a length of wood into the iron staples on either side of the door,