“You don’t want to hear me talk that way about Mr. Winn,” Mark replied.
“No,” Layla admitted, “But I do want to know what happened next. Just skip over the part where you call him all sorts of names.” Layla smiled indulgently at Mark, and his expression softened as well.
“All right, Layla,” Mark said in a near whisper. “The short story is that I was so angry with George Winn that I threw myself at him. I clobbered him upside the nose.” Layla touched Mark’s bloodied hand, and he paused. She grabbed the second cloth and dipped it into the bucket of water. Moving as gently as she could, she dabbed the cloth across Mark’s knuckles. He winced slightly.
“Does it hurt badly?” Layla asked.
“I’ll be fine,” Mark replied, looking down at where Layla grazed the cloth over his hand and fingers.
“I was so worried about you,” Layla whispered, and Mark’s index finger twitched. “I wasn’t sure what you might do or what might happen. I …” She lifted her head to gaze into Mark’s eyes.
His eyes looked very dark in the light, but she could see a tenderness there.
“Layla,” Mark spoke softly. “I have you, and I have Heath. I promise you. I will be just fine.” He closed the space between them. Lifting his left hand, he tucked it beneath Layla’s chin. He caressed the side of her face lovingly, and Layla smiled as Mark leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips.
Chapter Thirty-One
“And then what happened?” Emmett asked eagerly, leaning both elbows on the table, closer to Mark as he put his chin in his hands, making Mark laugh. Sometimes, Mark forgot that Emmett had once been a drunk who liked to spend his time in saloons, gambling away money he didn’t have. In moments like this, when Emmett was pumping him for information about the altercation he’d had yesterday with George Winn, Mark was reminded of the fact. He figured Ol’ Emmett had seen his fair share of brawling down at those saloons and gambling halls.
“After he shoved me with his shoulder, I completely lost my cool,” Mark said enthusiastically. When he recalled the fight last night for Layla, he was exhausted and only skimmed over the details. But, this morning, even though his hand throbbed a little and his cheek ached while he ate breakfast, Emmett was showing such a lively interest, so Mark was compelled to dive back into the story with gusto.
“I raised my right hand and balled my fist. I …” Just as Mark had been about to elaborate on the way he had struck George Winn, Layla came around the corner of the dining room carrying a jar of jam and set it firmly in front of Mark.
“I don’t think you should be reenacting what happened with that awful man,” she told him sternly with a disapproving look.
Mark glanced at her and grinned sheepishly. “I was only telling your father what happened.”
“And the baby,” Layla added as she gestured down the table toward Heath, who was playing with his eggs. Mark frowned a little as he didn’t think that Heath cared what they talked about one way or the other, but did feel guilty when he realized that he wouldn’t want Heath to think it was right to fight with another man.
“Sorry, Layla. Sorry, Heath,” Mark said quietly.
Heath popped a piece of his eggs into his mouth. As he was chewing around them, he said, “Saw-we, Dada.”
Mark stared at his son, his mouth open in amazement. But Emmett just slapped his hand on the table and laughed.
“I told you he’s the smartest boy in the world,” Emmett said proudly, beaming at Heath.
Mark agreed. “He is amazing.” With a tilt of his head toward Layla, he mouthed, “Sorry.” She nodded to indicate she accepted his apology and sat smoothly in her own chair.
After just a few bites, Emmett started up the conversation once more. “While you might not approve of Mark telling me his story or sharing it with his son, I would recommend he report it to the sheriff.”
“Do you think I should?” Mark asked. He twisted the top from the jam jar and spread some on his biscuits.
“Of course,” Emmett answered helpfully. “I don’t know that you need to tell him all about the fight, as it seems to me that you went onto Mr. Winn’s property, and you threw the first punch.”
“I hardly think he’ll be able to hide the fact, Father,” Layla said in a scolding tone. “His hand still looks a mess, and I can see a bruise discoloring his cheek. The sheriff will know there was a fight.”
“Maybe so,” Emmett acquiesced, “but it doesn’t mean Mr. Flint has to tell him all about it.”
“Then what are you suggesting?” Mark asked, taking a big bite, and the tart taste of raspberry filled his mouth. He was interested in Emmett’s proposition; he hadn’t considered talking to the sheriff about the altercation with George Winn, as it might not look favorable on his side. But now that he thought about it, he was eager to know what Emmett might suggest. The sheriff might want to know about George Winn’s business dealings. Who knew? If George Winn was willing to go after Mark’s business, who was to say he wasn’t also messing with other ranchers in town?
Emmett shrugged and lifted a forkful of eggs to his mouth. “I know it’s none of my business, but if I were you, I’d talk to Carey Coolidge about the whole mess. He’s been the sheriff of Willow Lake for going on three years now, I think.” Emmett rubbed a hand over his chin pensively. “He’s fair, and he’ll listen to your story. He doesn’t throw the men around when he busts up the fights at the Tumble Weed and the Wagon Wheel. He treats them with respect and at least tries to listen to both sides of the story. His deputy’s a good man, too. Can’t remember his name right now, but he’s one of those types who can calm a situation just with the sound of his voice.”
Mark chewed as he considered Emmett’s idea of talking to the sheriff and his deputy. They sounded like reasonable men, and Emmett described them as fair. If there was any sort of word that could be applied to a man of the law, citizens had to hope it was ‘fair’. “I don’t know what I’d tell them exactly.”
Emmett jumped in with an answer. “You could tell them that George Winn is sabotaging your business. You know he paid off your ranch hand in exchange for information—the boy admitted to that himself. While that might not be much to raise the sheriff’s eyebrows over today, it is important to report it. You don’t know how desperate George Winn might be. You never know what he’ll do next.”
Mark put down the remainder of the biscuit, glancing down the table at Heath before his eyes floated over to Layla. Her eyes were bright now, and she nodded firmly.
