More times than he could remember, Cash had bought him food because his mom had spent all their money on booze and cigarettes. Big Brothers weren’t supposed to buy their Littles gifts, but Cash had.
Once, he’d caught Austin smoking up behind Chester’s Bar and Grill, because any escape for Austin from the numbing drive of keeping his mom’s head above water was a blessing. But Cash had caught him and warned him away from drink and drugs with a simple lesson. He had tossed the twelve-year-old into a jail cell for the day so Austin would see how it felt.
If Austin got into trouble, who would take care of his mom? As much as the routine of the child taking care of the mother had worn thin, he loved her. She never would have survived on her own. Not then. He knew she could now. She didn’t agree with him.
That day, Cash had stepped out of the sheriff’s office for a while and had returned with the best winter coat Austin had ever owned, and mittens and a hat, too. The guy had achieved godlike status that day. No one, certainly not his father, had ever cared enough about Austin to give him anything.
Cash had scared him straight, and had cared for him enough that Austin had stayed straight ever since.
“Don’t make assumptions,” Austin ordered. “I’ve gone hungry, but I never stole a wallet in my life.”
She struggled in his arms. “Bully for you.”
Austin chuffed out a laugh and tightened his grip. “That the best you can do? It’s pretty lame.”
“I might be a thief, but I don’t swear.”
“You’re strange.”
“And you’re holding me too tightly. What are you? Some kind of perv looking to cop a feel?”
She was trying to get a rise out of him, probably hoping he’d get so mad he’d let go so she could get away. Not a chance. People said rude things to cops all the time. This was nothing.
“I’m not a pervert, but you were right about the cop part.”
He appreciated how she stilled in his arms, got a kick out of shocking her. Good. Maybe she’d think twice before robbing someone again.
“Gotcha,” he said. He could feel her pulse in her wrist under his thumb, and her panic sizzled like bacon on a griddle.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m a cop. You just robbed a sheriff’s deputy.”
“Crap,” she whispered, not sounding so tough now.
“You picked the wrong person to rob this time.”
“There is no this time. I’ve never stolen a wallet before in my life,” she said, defiant, and he believed her. No experienced thief would have been so clumsy.
“Why did you do it?”
He sensed her pride warring with misery before she bit out, “I’m hungry.”
In those two words, he heard the stark terror he used to feel. He heard a hell of a lot more than just, I missed lunch. Her tone whispered, My body hurts and I’m scared I might never eat again.
She didn’t smell clean. She needed a shower and to shampoo her short, greasy hair. Her cheap, ill-fitting clothes needed a good launder. Her breath wasn’t so great, either. He knew homelessness when he smelled it.
“If you need money, get a job.”
“Easy for you to say. Do you have any idea how hard it is? Even when you want to?” Her voice cracked, but she forged on. “I don’t have money. I went in there for breakfast. I wanted food, but I wasn’t asking for charity. I told them I would work for it. They wouldn’t let me wash dishes. They wouldn’t let me sweep the floors. I even offered to clean their toilets. I wasn’t asking for a freebie, but they kicked me out anyway.”
He eased her out of his arms, but held on to one wrist while he studied her. The hollows under her cheekbones and the dark circles under her eyes tugged at him. He remembered how exhausting hunger was.
But he’d been a kid. She was an adult. On close inspection, he figured she had enough miles on her tires to be nearer to thirty than twenty. So how had she fallen so low?
Everyone had a story, and sometimes the fall wasn’t such a long drop. His mom came to mind. With that thought, Austin knew he wouldn’t press charges.
When he’d caught her, he’d scared her. When he’d mentioned jail, he’d witnessed an unholy terror shoot through her. Maybe she’d learned a lesson today.
Before he went back inside, he needed his stuff back.
He held out his hand. “My money.”
She stared at the bills crumpled in her fist. During their struggles, she’d had the presence of mind to hold on to them. Slowly, as if it physically hurt, as though her fingers were crippled with arthritis, she opened her hand enough to pass him the money.
“Here,” she mumbled, but her eyes said mine. No doubt about it, she had a fierce need.
He bent down to pick up his wallet and opened it. “Give me my credit cards.”
She pulled them out of her pockets. Only when he was certain he had everything did he let go of her wrist.
“You telling the truth? About this being your first time stealing?”
“My first time stealing a wallet.”
Right. Of course she’d stolen before. Wallet robbing didn’t start in a vacuum. “What else have you stolen?”
“Two date squares from the counter of a diner. Two days ago. They wouldn’t let me work, either.”
“And you didn’t get caught?”
Her eyes slid sideways and down. Here it comes, whatever lie she’s concocting. Then her gaze shot to his. She’d decided on honesty. “I nearly got caught. I had to run into a field with a bull in it to get away from the waitress.”
It sounded like a joke, but she wasn’t laughing. Neither was he. As petite as she was, she could have been torn apart by a bull in a rage.
“He didn’t charge?”
“He tried to, but I was fast and climbed up into a tree. He butted it, but I held on until he lost interest and left. I climbed out onto a branch and jumped off over the other side of a fence. Then I ran for it.”
She’d been taking too many chances.
He turned the subject back to what he really wanted to know. “When was the last time you ate?”
“Those date squares.”
“Jesus, are you shitting me?”
Her mouth tightened. Pride. He understood pride. “I’m serious.”
No wonder she’d stolen his wallet. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and cradle her to a safer place.
Whoa, buddy. She’s nothing and no one to you.
She touched a spot deep inside him that he’d thought long buried, the kid who’d gone without too many times. The kid whispered, Help her.
His adult self shouted, Don’t.
He fought the urge to tuck her under a protective wing.
Don’t do it, buddy.
He’d been taking care of someone else all his life. Now, when he’d wrangled and scratched and clawed his way out of Ordinary, Montana, for his first vacation ever, when his only problems should be deciding what fishing rod and bait to use tomorrow, or whether to buy the cattle he was checking out when they got to Texas, he was actually contemplating getting entangled in this woman’s issues.