Mark was fussing over Luke when he heard the horses riding up to the house and he said sternly, "I'll see who that is, Pa. You sit here and rest."
His father blew out his breath in exasperation. "Son, I've done nothing but rest for two days. I'm tired of resting."
"Doc Burrage says if you rested half as much as he told you to, you'd get better twice as fast."
"All right." Luke's voice was meek enough but his eyes were twinkling. "I won't move, not even to help with the dishes."
"Oh, Pa." The boy shook his head and went out on the porch.
Luke leaned back in his reading chair, his eyes closed. He could hear a low murmur from whoever had come to call, then Mark's voice raised in anger. The big man frowned and got up, holding onto the chair as the room spun, then steadied. He slowly made his way over to the door. The boy was standing on the porch with his feet apart and his arms crossed, glaring at Micah and a young woman by his side. "What's wrong, son?"
"Pa!" Mark spun around. "You were supposed to stay put!"
His father put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I would have if I didn't hear you yelling." He looked over at the marshal. "Micah, what's going on?"
The young woman took a step forward. "I asked the marshal to let me talk to you, Mr McCain."
"We don't want to hear anything you have to say!" Mark's voice was furious. "Micah, how could you bring her here?"
The marshal was unruffled. "Because I thought Lucas should hear what she has to say before deciding whether to press charges against her."
"Charges?" Luke peered at the woman's face and his mouth went dry. He remembered her now. She hadn't even said a word, just pointed the gun at him and pulled the trigger. His hand tightened on Mark's shoulder.
The boy winced. "Pa, you're hurting me!"
Luke forced himself to relax. "Sorry, son."
"That's all right."
The big man considered. Micah was his best friend and the last person in the world who would do anything to hurt him. If Micah thought he should hear what the woman had to say...Luke sighed. "You'd better come in."