Downtime Read Online Free PDF Page B

right—ma’am.” There was no way to leave off the ma’am with this woman. “I appreciate the bed for the night. And the meal.” I gave her my most winning smile.
     
    It didn’t melt her a fraction of an inch. “Sit down, Mr. Nash.”
     
    “Yes, ma’am.” I settled into a vacant chair between Derry and Henry and looked over a meal that rivaled Thanksgivings back home. I wondered how many “single gentlemen” lived in the house. Kathleen had made enough food for a dozen empty bellies, but only familiar faces were present at the moment. As soon as she sat, four heads bowed down and, catching on, I played along.
     
    Kathleen’s version of grace was brief and direct. “Bless this meal, which You in Your goodness have provided. Bless this house, Lord, and all who dwell in it.”
     
    I stole a peek across the table at her and caught her doing the same as she magnanimously included me in her prayer. She stared at me, as frankly assessing as ever, before she closed her eyes to finish saying grace. When she raised her head with a faint but satisfied smile, the others immediately reached for the nearest platter.
     
    Waiting my turn, I realized that everything was being passed first to me. I ladled a spoonful of soup with a whole lot of potato and what I hoped was beef and took a thick slice of bread. It didn’t look too bad and, trying not to dwell on how meat was processed in this day and age, I gave it a try. It didn’t taste bad either, apart from being a little heavy on the salt. But I had less of an appetite than I thought. Worn to the bone, I could only sit and listen to the talk around me.
     
    And that talk, I sensed, was more nervous than it might have been otherwise. My kidnappers—and they were kidnappers, as far as I was concerned—clearly had no desire to let Kathleen in on the secret. That was fine by me. I had enough to worry about. As tired as I was, I’d be sleeping like a log, something that didn’t seem too wise under the circumstances. I wanted to hang on to my gun and my senses as long as I could, until I knew for sure I wasn’t in any danger of being disposed of.
     
    I might be too tired for conversation, but I wasn’t too tired to at least visually profile my kidnappers before I made myself any more vulnerable. What stood out was their remorse, particularly Derry’s. Every time he looked at me, it was with avid concern. I knew a sweetheart of a guy when I saw one. I put him at around forty-five, and those years had not all been gentle on him. His fair skin had been weathered by sun and calloused by work, but the hair that fell in thick black waves nearly to his shoulders was barely touched by gray, and the energy he exuded made him seem younger. He wasn’t fat, as I’d first thought, but built like an ox, stout and solid. And he didn’t find dressing up any more comfortable than I did. He’d taken off his tie and looked like he wanted to shed the coat as well, but didn’t, to please Kathleen.
     
    Whether Kathleen was pleased, I couldn’t tell. Her face didn’t give away her every thought, as Derry’s did. The trace of a smile curved her slim mouth and reflected in her eyes, and from the snippets of conversation I caught, she was a woman of few words. I wondered why she was unmarried. She wasn’t much past forty, her face unlined, a little thin but still classically attractive. Her hair framed her face like black smoke, the better portion of it tamed in a thick bun. She was dressed in a wine-colored gown without a frill to it, her only jewelry garnets gleaming from the pendant at her breast and the ring on her right hand. She wasn’t the cuddly sort, but I didn’t think she was entirely a cold fish.
     
    Henry, on the other hand—why he wasn’t hitched was all too evident. Fair and blue-eyed, he was on the delicate side and possessed of that quality known in my time and probably his too as unadulterated priss. I’d have bet anything the guy never really smiled, not a