He uncoiled his long, muscular legs, and ran his hands through his wavy black hair. His bare chest reflected light and shadow, as the firelight played...with the night. He took off his cowboy boots, worn and patched, spurs tinkling in the quiet. He looked for a place to lay down, and realised he only had one bedroll and blanket. It was close to summer, but the nights were still cool. He went over to the girl, and laid beside her. He brought a cup of water with him, in case she needed a drink. Michael had always wished so much that maybe he would have been able to catch his own mother with Santa Claus maybe even actually 'filling her stockings, ' so-to-speak, but alas, that was never to be. Not that it would matter, mused the boy, as he knew by looking at the clock, his mother's alarm would soon buzz her out of her dreams and into his own.When her son bounded into her bedroom, the pretty, young mother couldn't help but smile; she didn't have a clue as to what was soon to be her fate.. More

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