![]() ![]() He could read the assurance in Ryan’s eyes, the message that he would do all he could to take care of Emma and Josiah. ![]() Across the distance they shared a long look. Patrick nodded at Ryan, grateful for his support. Emma’s brother had protested loudly to the sheriff, vouching for Patrick’s innocence and demanding his release. Even Ryan had managed to drag himself out of bed and was propped against a barrel, his face pinched with pain. Instead, the shore was eerily quiet, except for Josiah’s happy chatter.įarther up the beach, Fred Burnham stood near his sons and wife. The usual good-natured teasing and laughter that accompanied their return was absent. They were busy unloading wooden crates of fish and laying out their nets and sails. The shore was crowded with the fishermen who’d returned in their rigs from their day’s catch. “One, two, three,” she said, and then she lifted him and swung him back and forth in a game she’d played with him since they’d walked back to the harbor. ![]() “One, two, three, Mamma,” Josiah said with a grin.Įmma smiled down at the boy, though the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Now the little boy hopped up and down between him and Emma, holding each of their hands. He was thankful the sheriff had been decent enough to allow him to search for his missing son. They needed to put out if they hoped to reach Fremont before nightfall. While the sun was still visible in the western sky, the woodland shadows were lengthening along the shore. Patrick stood on the dock next to the sheriff, who had begun to fidget with his badge. ![]()
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