Redwood Bend

it’s not too much to ask, can we keep this between us for now?”
“Are you all right, Katie?” Leslie asked.
“Oh, besides that tired-all-the-time thing and getting a little green around the gills sometimes, I’m the picture of health. I’ll admit I’m a little upside down emotionally, but that’ll pass. And jeez, Conner, at least he didn’t die. Huh?”
Conner’s fierce expression didn’t ease for a long time, but just the same Katie forced the conversation to houses, taking delivery of stored household goods from her old house in Sacramento, possible jobs Katie might be able to handle while pregnant. Conner was still kicking around the idea of a hardware store, smaller than the one they owned in Sacramento, but if he did open one nearby, that would solve a lot of problems.
As Conner and Leslie were leaving, Conner pulled Katie into his arms and held her close. “You never have to ask me to stand by you. No matter what happens in our lives, we always stand by each other.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I love you.”
When they left, Katie pulled the boys inside and fixed them grilled cheese sandwiches, which they wolfed down in what seemed like seconds. Then she asked them to go to the loft and either watch movies or play quietly. “Mommy needs a nice soak in the tub.”
The boys exchanged concerned glances.
“Just a soak,” she assured them with a little smile. “And do not go outside!”

Thirteen

O n the way back to town, Leslie spent a great deal of time trying to talk Conner down. “I know you feel very protective of Katie, but she’s a grown woman who made adult choices and is now living up to them very admirably. She obviously wants to have this baby. Try to be happy for her.”
“She look happy to you?” he nearly growled. “He needs to be accountable!”
“I think she’d be happier if things had gone a little differently—like if she’d had more time to develop a lasting relationship with Dylan. But, Conner, things don’t always go the way we want.”
“Humph,” he grunted. “What kind of a man walks out on a pregnant woman?”
“Maybe the kind who has no idea she’s pregnant,” Leslie said. “I want you to do a little memory check—we made love before we established our future together. It could’ve happened to us.”
“I wouldn’t have walked away like he did.”
She laughed softly. “Actually, you admitted later that had been your original plan. You had trust issues where women were concerned, you were a secret witness whose life had been threatened. You were going to bolt, but that didn’t stop you from crawling into bed with me.”
“But I stayed!” he argued.
“I repeat—Dylan has no idea there’s a pregnancy! He’s not an ass so much as another version of you a few years ago. We will give Katie love and support and stay out of her business. She can make her own decisions.”
“Doesn’t look like she’s making really good ones,” he grumbled angrily.
“If she heard this from you, she would be furious,” Leslie said. “And you’d be lucky if she ever confided in you again.”
“Let me get it out!” he said. “I’ll get it out, I’ll be done with it! Katie won’t have to put up with this from me. I’ll take care of her.”
Leslie sighed. “Stop at Jack’s,” she said. “I’ll get something of Preacher’s to take home. And whatever you have to do to be done with this, do it. I don’t want all this anger from you—I’ve never had to deal with this from you before. You get about fifteen more minutes, then I’m out of patience.”
She soon realized how badly she’d chosen her words. It was almost six o’clock, the bar was at peak dinner hour when they walked in. There were only a couple of empty tables or bar stools. Sitting at the end of the bar with a beer and a dinner plate was Dylan Childress.
It was like waving the red cape in front of the bull.
Conner didn’t look right or left. He stomped into the bar, grabbed Dylan by the front of his shirt, taking him completely by surprise, lifting him off the stool, and began to drag him out of the bar. Leslie screamed, “Jaaaccckkk!” Dylan hooked his boot behind Conner’s knee and they both went down, toppling a table as they crashed to the floor. Just like a scene from the old West, people rose and pushed back tables and chairs to stay out of the way of a good old-fashioned bar fight.
And the fists flew, both men making significant, loud, crunching contact. They each got off