They lapsed into silence and the only sounds were the rumble of the motor, the clack of windshield wipers and the drumming of sleet, which had become fine bits of ice again.
The world was a white blur, cedar limbs sagging under the weight of snow topped with ice. Lines and trees sparkled as ice coated thin branches and wires. A rabbit dashed from the bar ditch, racing across the road.
Katherine felt chilled to the bone, even though the heater was keeping the interior of the pickup toasty warm. She glanced surreptitiously at the dark-haired man driving the pickup. He had gotten them out of Stillwater, but was she headed for something worse? A cop was about the last person she wanted to encounter, much less trust with her life. And this man looked strong and tough. She glanced at his hands on the steering wheel, looking at the straight, blunt fingers, well-shaped but large hands. She could imagine the hurt they might inflict.
The pickup bounced across a cattle guard, rumbling over the rise and slowing as Colin headed for a house nestled beneath tall bare-limbed cottonwoods and bushy snow-covered cedars. A streamer of white smoke wafted from a large chimney. “This won’t take long. Come inside and meet my folks.”
“I’ll wait here.” How dangerous could he be when he had his parents within miles? She knew too well that parents weren’t a guarantee against violence in grown sons.
Ignoring her protest, Colin Whitefeather squared his black Stetson on his head, and went around to open her door. Long limbed, at least four inches over six feet tall, his dark skin and dark hair gave him a touch of wildness, as if he spent his time outdoors dealing with the elements. His shoulders were broad, his hands big, and he frightened her, but he was the only hope she had at the moment.
When he closed the car door behind her, he stepped to the back. As he yanked free the ties of the tarp and swept snow to the ground with his arm, a tall, striking woman opened the back door. Waving at them, she had the same prominent cheekbones and dark eyes as her son. Colin picked up two sacks of groceries and handed them to Katherine, taking three more in his arms and hurrying to the house.
Determined to get ahead of Katherine, Colin crossed the yard in long strides.
“Did you have difficulty getting here?” his mother asked, her dark brown gaze going beyond him to Katherine.
He leaned forward to brush his mother’s cheek with a kiss. “Don’t ask questions, Mom. I don’t know her and she’s in trouble.” He stepped onto the back porch and stomped snow off his black western boots and turned as Katherine entered.
“Mom, this is Katherine Manchester. Katherine, this is my mother, Nadine Whitefeather.”
“Co in. I have hot chocolate ready.”
“M it’s icing up out there. We would get home while we can.”
“You can drink hot chocolate,” she said firmly, leading the way into the roomy kitchen with glass-fronted cabinets.
“I thought I heard voices,” Will Whitefeather said, entering the room.
Katherine faced a man only a few inches shorter than Colin and even more broad in the shoulders. Will Whitefeather looked sturdy and strong enough to lift the front of the blue pickup off the ground. His dark skin was lined and creased from the weather, yet as he smiled at her there was something reassuring about him that made her want to drop her guard. And then she remembered how gullible she had been in the past, how pulled into danger she was now.
“Dad, this is Katherine Manchester. Katherine, meet my father, Will Whitefeather.”
“We’re glad to have you, even though it’s a terrible day to be out,” Will said openly and to her relief, her name seemed to mean nothing to any of the Whitefeather family.
“Sit down, Katherine, while I put away groceries,” Colin said. “Mom will be back in a minute and pour the hot chocolate and then, Dad, I’ll help you break the ice and feed the livestock.”
“If you need to get home, Colin, you go on. It’s getting slick and I just heard a weather report. We’re supposed to get more ice and six inches of snow.”
“I’ll take your coat.” Colin Whitefeather stepped behind her, waiting while Katherine unfastened the wrinkled parka. He slipped it off her shoulders and hung it on a peg, turning to motion toward the kitchen chairs. “Have a seat,” he said, his gaze going over her fuzzy purple sweater, which hung to her knees. Shock immobilized him momentarily, now that the bulky coat no longer hid her figure. Katherine Manchester looked six months pregnant.
Aware of his gaze going swiftly over her figure, she felt a flush of embarrassment. Self-consciously she removed her hat; she could imagine how terrible her hair looked. She had put it up in the early hours of the morning and worn the cap all day and she could feel locks that had tumbled loose from the braids. When she handed him her hat, her fingers brushed his in a casual touch that should have been unnoticed, yet the contact stirred a tingling current.
As Katherine turned around, Colin’s dark gaze was on her, studying her features, and her self-consciousness increased. She never intended anyone to scrutinize her so closely. She stared into his dark eyes, conscious of him as a male, too aware of an electric tension snapping between them. Her pulse jumped and then surprise shook her, because she couldn’t recall reacting to a man in such a manner since she was twenty years old.
He turned away to shed his coat and her pulse took another lurch, because beneath the bulky coat he was broad shouldered and slim hipped, a red wool shirt tucked into faded jeans that molded long legs.
He shook his shaggy black hair away from his face and crossed the kitchen to help his father, the two bearing a close resemblance in their rugged facial planes, the arrogant hawklike noses and strong jaws.
Trying to ignore Colin Whitefeather, Katherine glanced around the room, which was filled with a clutter of appliances and tempting smells coming from the oven. The aroma of hot chocolate wafted on the air, wrapping around her like a cloak, making her remember moments of her childhood when life had been predictable. Cheerful yellow-and-white curtains were tied back at the frosted windows and thriving green plants hung from hooks. Katherine felt momentarily safe and wished she could politely thank Colin Whitefeather and stay here with his parents until the snow thawed.
“One cup, Mom, and then I’ll help Dad and we’ll be on our way,” Colin said good-naturedly while his mother poured steaming cups of hot chocolate. He leaned back in the chair, stretching out his long legs, and Katherine thought how strong and reliable he looked. Yet she knew far too well how deceiving looks could be.
“You don’t have far to go and you’ll manage it.” Nadine smiled at Katherine.
Colin sipped his hot chocolate as Katherine raised her mug to her lips. The thick pottery mug warmed her fingers and the steaming chocolate tasted delicious, the first hot food in too long.
“Dad, we need to get going as soon as we can. I want to get the chores done,” Colin said, standing and carrying his mug of chocolate to the counter.
“Let’s go,” Will answered, pulling on a heavy coat and jamming a battered wide-brimmed hat on his head.
As the men left, Nadine moved around the kitchen cleaning cups and pouring more hot chocolate. After ten minutes of listening to Nadine talk about recipes and Colin when he was a child, Katherine realized that Nadine had not asked her a single question about her life, and she wondered if Colin had said something or if Nadine simply had her thoughts on her own family.
Dreading leaving with Colin again, Katherine still felt tense, watching the clock until finally she heard the slap of the door to the porch and the men’s voices and footstomping. Colin thrust his head inside. “Katherine, if you’ll get your coat, I won’t even come inside, because it’s sleeting again.”
She moved across the kitchen to put on her coat. Wiping her hands on a towel, Nadine Whitefeather followed her. “I’m glad you stopped by with Colin. Sometimes