Lost and Found

Chapter Five

Paul's long johns had to be the rattiest Sawyer had ever seen, and Kitty's little underdress was in even worse shape. He made a mental list of the things he'd head off to town for bright and early in the morning and pulled the covers back on the bed.

With Mrs. Richardson able to keep an eye on the woman downstairs, he'd hopefully be able to keep his ranch running smoothly, without too much interruption over the next few days.

Sawyer employed three ranch hands to handle the majority of the workload, but he wanted Paul to feel valuable to him, so as Paul climbed into the bed, he asked quietly, "I'm going to be needing your help with all the regular chores now that a sick lady is staying with us. Do you feel up to it?"

Paul sighed as he laid down on the softest mattress he'd ever been on. Unable to resist caressing the blanket where it rested on his legs, he luxuriated in the material's thick, smooth feel and replied, "Yes, Mr. Weston. I'll help with whatever you need me to do."

Sawyer smiled and pulled the covers up to Paul's chest, "All right. How about for starters you and Kitty stop this Mr. Weston nonsense?" He placed a kiss on Paul's forehead and straightened the covers.

Paul covered a yawn as he gazed at Sawyer with sleepy, content eyes, "What should we call ya then?"

Sawyer pretended to contemplate the issue for a few minutes and tiptoed to the other side of the bed, where he placed a soft kiss on Kitty's forehead. He pulled up the blanket to cover her arms and whispered, "Well, let's see. We're going to be a family now, so I reckon you could always call me Sawyer." He looked at Paul and asked, "But, what would you like to call me?"

Paul covered another yawn and settled more snugly into the mattress, "I think Kitty would like to call you Papa... "

Tears stung Sawyer's eyes as he nodded, "And how about you, Paul?"

Paul struggled to keep his eyes open and drowsily replied, "Well, I don't want Kitty to be confused if I was calling you something different—so it's probably best if I call you Papa as well?"

It was as though a dagger had been plunged in his chest when Sawyer heard the hope and uncertainty in Paul's voice and knew the feelings stemmed from Gabe's neglect.

"I'd like that. Papa sounds good to me," Sawyer whispered. "Now, get some sleep, and don't forget I'm just across the hall if you need anything."

Paul gave a sleepy smile and turned on his side as Sawyer blew out the lamp. He walked out of the room as quietly as possible and left the door slightly ajar, promising himself that Paul and Kitty would never have another day where they felt unwanted or unloved.

As he came to the top of the stairs, he stopped and wiped the moisture from his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced back at the kid's room, then descended the stairs and headed to the guest room.

Mrs. Richardson's soft humming and soft lantern light greeted him long before he came to a stop just outside the room. He watched the scene for a few minutes, hesitant to disrupt and yet oddly compelled to be near the unconscious woman.

He was pleased to see Mrs. Richardson had dressed the lady in an old nightgown of Jane's he'd placed on the bed before dinner. Standing in the doorway, Sawyer cleared his throat and said, "Mrs. Richardson, you head on up to the room next to the children's. You should get some sleep. I'll watch her tonight; you can take over in the morning."

Mrs. Richardson smiled at him and stood, groaning softly, "Oh... my bones are not as young as I think they are sometimes." She dipped the rag into the washbasin on the bedside table and wrung it out before placing it once more on the woman's forehead.