The Bounty Hunter's Redemption Read Online Free PDF Page A

promised to help you. When you was asleep.”
    Henry thought that bounty hunter was nice? Nate Sergeant would most likely show up tomorrow with his sister in tow and try to toss them out.
    Well, she wouldn’t budge. “I expect he will.” I expect he will help us to the street. But she couldn’t say that without scaring her son.
    She gazed into his guileless blue eyes. “Why do you call Mr. Sergeant nice?”
    “You fell down and he caught you. He looked scared. Not scary like Pa.”
    Uninvited images surfaced in Carly’s mind, of a full head of dark hair, the shadow of beard along his chiseled jaw, gray eyes laced with regret, the pupils rimmed in charcoal. Those pupils had enlarged, and she’d felt the strangest pull.
    Ridiculous.
    Nate Sergeant might be handsome, manly, even uneasy about snatching her shop, but that wouldn’t stop him.
    “I thought you was dead, Mama. I was afraid.”
    “Oh, sweet boy, I’m sorry I frightened you.”
    His chin trembling, Henry clutched her arm. “Are you sick?”
    “No, I’m healthy and strong. Why, I could wrestle a grizzly bear and win.” Carly tugged him onto her lap.
    He smiled up at her, his fear forgotten. “I’m strong, too,” he said, fisting his right hand and gazing at the tiny swell beneath his sleeve. “See my muscle?”
    “You are strong. Now climb into bed, my little monkey.”
    Henry grabbed the stuffed elephant she’d made for him, its trunk bent and droopy, and scrambled under the covers, pulling them up until only his eyebrows stuck above the quilt. “I’m sleepin’, Mama.”
    “Is that so?” Carly leaned forward and peeled back the edge of the blanket with one finger. “Well, I don’t see a sleeping boy. I see a pretending boy.” She leaned in, pressed a kiss to Henry’s forehead, pausing long enough to inhale his sweet, innocent fragrance. He filled her heart with joy, made her world complete. “I expect a story will make you sleepy.”
    The blanket inched down until she could see mischievous blue eyes, an impish grin. “I love stories.”
    Book in hand, Carly slid into the space beside her son. “That’s good, because I love reading you stories.”
    Head cradled on his hands, Henry curved toward her, a sixty-pound bundle of energy that brought infinite happiness to her life. Moments like these were what mattered. Moments like these filled her life with meaning. Moments like these had gotten her through the worst days with Max and had her counting her blessings twice over.
    Henry listened intently to every word, only interrupting to mimic the sounds made by the animals in the story.
    Carly tucked the book on the nightstand. “Time for our bedtime song.” The nighttime ritual reminded Carly of her mother’s faith and the memories of the happy times they’d shared.
    Carly cupped her son’s cheek in her palm, and then sang, “Father, we thank Thee for the night and for the blessed morning light. For food and rest and loving care and all that makes the day so fair.”
    Lying back on the pillow, his features sweeter than a rosy-cheeked cupid on a postcard Valentine, Henry tilted his face to the ceiling, as if singing for God Himself. “Help me do the things I should and be to others kind and good. In all I do in work or play to grow more loving every day.”
    Henry rolled his head toward her and smiled. “Does Grandma hear us singing?”
    “She might. If she does, she’s proud of her grandson.”
    “She’s proud of you, too, Mama.”
    What had Carly ever done to deserve this precious boy? Her throat knotted. She was all that stood between Henry and the ugliness of this world. Was she up to the task of guiding her son to become a man who loved God, a man who thought of others, a man who lived the words of this bedtime song?
    To protect Henry and ensure that happy life she wanted for him, she must first save their home and livelihood.
    Help me, Lord. Please, save my shop.
    She kissed Henry on both cheeks, and then walked to the door.