"He can be a mystery. There's more to Preacher than... You really care about him?" "I do." "Then you be patient. He'll come around. Paige, it's obvious--he cares about you, too. You and Christopher. I've never seen him like this with anybody." "Maybe he wants to be sure I'm not just--" Mike was shaking his head. "He wants to be sure of himself, Paige. Preacher's real cautious. I think the man could be terrified of disappointing you. That's my bet." "He couldn't possibly," she said, and a tear fell again. Mike wiped it away. "You just have to trust me on this--he's a bundle of nerves. He's really good in a fight, really good in a war, and who'da guessed how good a cook he turned out to be, huh? But with women? Paige--he's never been a hustler. I don't know of any women. He's never been that kind of guy. Just not a tomcat like some of the rest of us." "That's one of the things I love most," she whispered. Mike smiled. "You give him some time, huh?" She nodded. She smiled weakly. Mike dropped a brotherly kiss on her forehead. "It's going to be all right." "You think so?" "Oh, yeah. Just hang in there. Don't give up on him." Mike thought, that lucky son of a bitch. This woman adored him. Wanted nothing so much as to make him happy all night long. "Go wash your face. I'm gonna get myself a beer." He gave her shoulders a final squeeze, and as she turned away from him, Preacher was standing in the back door with his catch. Paige skittered past Preacher, keeping her head down so that he wouldn't see her tears. Preacher scowled at Mike. "Need something?" he asked. "I need a beer before I walk over to Doc's and let Mel torture me. Want me to get it myself?" "Help yourself," he said, throwing his fish in the big sink. Jack"