Free Creed's Honor by Linda Lael Miller Page A

said. “Valentino and I would be stranded if you got arrested.”
    Tricia drove out of the lot and onto the highway. “The most important thing is that you’re safer now,” she told her goddaughter. “But even if something did happen, you wouldn’t be left to manage on your own.”
    “But who’s going to use this seat when I’m in Paris?” Sasha asked. “It cost a lot of money.”
    There it was again—her practical side. How many kids troubled their heads about such things?
    “Not to worry,” Tricia answered, wanting to reassurethe child. “It’ll come in handy now, and when you visit again.”
    Sasha sighed. “But it might be a long time before that happens,” she said. “I might be too big to even need a booster seat next time I come to Colorado. I might even be a teenager by then.” From her tone, she didn’t find the idea of being a teen completely unappealing.
    “It’ll be a while,” Tricia said, though she knew Sasha would be grown-up long before anybody else—Diana and Paul included—was the least bit ready for that to happen.
    Mercifully, Sasha moved between subjects like a firefly flitting from branch to bough, and her concern over the expense of the booster seat was apparently forgotten. “Are we going to do fun stuff while I’m staying with you?” she asked.
    Tricia reached up and adjusted the rearview mirror just far enough, and just long enough, to catch a glimpse of Sasha’s face. Valentino, living up to his name, rested his muzzle against the little girl’s cheek.
    “Yes,” she said. “We are going to do fun stuff.”
    “Like what?”
    “Well, we could go out for pizza. And rent some DVDs at the supermarket—”
    Tricia couldn’t help thinking how ordinary those activities must sound to an urban child, and she stumbled a little. “And there’s a barbecue at River’s Bend tomorrow afternoon. We’re invited.”
    The mysterious Sunday reservation had been made under the name “Stone Creek Cattle Company,” and Tricia had regarded the invitation as a formality, never intending to attend as a guest. Now that she had a child to entertain, it sounded like a good idea after all—thesort of Western shindig one might expect to see in Lonesome Bend, Colorado.
    “Will it be like a party?” Sasha piped up, clearly intrigued. “With music and sack races and games of horseshoes and stuff?”
    “I don’t know,” Tricia confessed, mildly deflated. Good heavens, she was really batting a thousand here.
    “You’re invited, but you don’t know what kind of party it’s going to be?”
    Sasha, Tricia thought wryly, would probably grow up to be a lawyer.
    “The people are from out of town,” she said. “I had the impression that it’s a pretty big gathering.”
    “They’re strangers?”
    “I guess so, but—”
    “A barbecue might be fun. They have them in people’s backyards sometimes, in Seattle, but I’ll bet cookouts are pretty unusual in France.”
    Tricia smiled. “Probably,” she agreed. “But the French are very good cooks.”
    “My friend Jessie,” Sasha remarked, “says the French don’t like Americans.”
    “Jessie?” Tricia countered, stalling so she could think for a few moments.
    “Jessie’s mom homeschools her and her brother, the same way my mom does me,” Sasha said. “She’s ten, just like me—Jessie, I mean—but she doesn’t have to sit in a booster seat anymore because she’s taller than I am. A lot taller.” She paused, drew a breath. “What if I don’t grow any bigger? What if I’m as old as you and Mom and I still have to ride in a stupid booster seat, like a baby, because I’m short? Jessie says it could happen.”
    “Jessie sounds—precocious,” Tricia said. “You aren’tthrough growing, kiddo—take it from me. Your dad is six-two, and your mom is five-seven. What are the genetic chances that you’ll be short?”
    “Grandma is short,” Sasha reasoned.
    “I’ve met your grandmother,” Tricia responded. “And you