“Dad?” She bolted from the bed. “Are they... Is he coming out here? To my cabin?”
“Cal was crying.” Scarlett broke off. “Oh my God, is Brody there? I’ll try to stop him. Dammit, I’m so sorry, India. I’ll try to stall him a bit.”
“My dad’s coming,” she said, tossing the phone onto the bed and throwing clothing at Brody. “Now.”
“Is Cal okay?” Brody asked, tugging on his jeans.
“Sore throat,” she said, tugging on her plain white cotton nightgown. “Why aren’t you moving faster?”
“That’s pretty.” He nodded at her nightgown. “Girls had it. Get him on antibiotics. He’ll feel better in a couple of days—”
“Brody,” she interrupted, pushing him toward the door. “You can’t be here. My dad... Cal... You have to go. Now.”
To her surprise, he smiled. “I’m going, India.” He shook his head. “If Cal’s up for it, we’ll go ahead with our next riding lesson at Click’s Sunday.”
She opened the door, pushing his broad back with both hands. “I’ll tell him. Go.”
He climbed into his truck wearing his boots and jeans, tossed his shirt in the passenger seat and started the engine.
India held her breath, watching as his taillights disappeared—as Cal and her father appeared on the trail leading to her front door. Tanner loped ahead, pressing his head against her thigh before trotting back to Cal.
“Mom,” Cal said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “I’m sick.”
She stooped, pressing a hand to his forehead.
“He’s got a fever, but your ma already gave him some medicine,” her father said, an undeniable edge to his voice.
“The pink stuff that tastes like bubble gum,” Cal said, letting her pick him up. Which told her just how bad he must feel.
“I appreciate that, Dad.” She smiled at him. “I would have walked up to get him.”
“Already up,” her father said, following her inside and sitting on her lumpy couch.
India lingered, thankful she and Brody had confined their escapades to her room. Still, she scanned the room, nervous he’d find something. “Want something to drink?” she asked. “I can make you some coffee after I put Cal to bed.”
“Take your time,” he said, his voice low and steady.
He was clipped and measured—like he was fighting for control. It made her anxious. But her father could wait until Cal was settled. “Okay,” she said, carrying Cal into his room. “Want some water?” she asked her son.
He nodded. “And Tanner,” he said, patting his bed. “Come on, boy.”
Tanner jumped up and rested his massive head on the pillow beside Cal.
“He can’t catch it, can he?” Cal asked, running his hand along the dog’s side.
“No, I’m pretty sure he’s safe,” she said, turning off the overhead and clicking on his night-light. “I’ll be right back with your water.”
Her father watched her get Cal a drink. “Want something?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Take your time.”
She hurried back into Cal’s room. “Need anything else?” Balancing on the edge of the bed was no easy feat. Between Cal and Tanner, there wasn’t much room for her. She smoothed the hair from her son’s forehead with her other hand. “Sorry you feel bad.”
He shook his head, his eyes already closed. “I wanted to come home.”
“Well, you are,” she assured him, pressing a kiss against his overheated skin. “Sleep tight, baby. I’m right next door if you need anything. We’ll go to the doctor first thing.”
“’Kay, Mom, I love you.” He rolled over, threw an arm over Tanner and yawned.