It was the stranger, the man she’d kissed in the alleyway.

But he was more than that.

Kinsey saw the stranger and Sam in profile. Same chin. Same nose. Same black hair.

They both turned to her. Eyes and mouth. Nearly identical. Sam’s features were soft. The man’s were hard, straight and rugged. This was what her son would grow up to look like.

Kinsey’s blood ran cold.

Jared Mason had found her.

Judith Stacy fell in love with the West while watching TV Westerns as a child in her rural Virginia home—one of the first in the community to have a television. This Wild West setting, with its strong men and resourceful women, remains one of her favourites. Judith is married to her high school sweetheart. They have two daughters and live in Southern California.

Recent novels by the same author:

MARRIED BY MIDNIGHT

MAGGIE AND THE LAW

WRITTEN IN THE HEART

THREE BRIDES AND A WEDDING DRESS

(in Spring Brides anthology)

THE LAST BRIDE IN TEXAS

THE HIRED HUSBAND

A PLACE TO BELONG

(in Stay for Christmas anthology)

JARED’S RUNAWAY WOMAN

Judith Stacy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To David, Judy and Stacy—who else?

Chapter One

Colorado, 1887

Kinsey Templeton watched the passengers file out of the stagecoach at the depot across the street. Horses and wagons passed between them kicking up little swirls of dirt. She squinted her eyes against the bright afternoon sunlight and craned her neck for a better view.

A husband and wife. Two women and a young boy. A man traveling alone. All tired and dusty, probably hungry, stretching their legs and drawing fresh breaths of the clean air.

Since arriving in Crystal Springs several months ago, Kinsey watched the arrival of nearly every person who set foot in town. The task had grown more difficult lately. The stage came more frequently now. The railroad had made the town a regular stop on its line, bringing even more new faces. She had her job, too, at the boardinghouse. Kinsey was probably the only person in Crystal Springs who arranged their day to match the stage and train schedules.

She was probably the only one who needed to.

With a quick glance around, Kinsey checked to see if any of the merchants she knew on Main Street or her friends going about their business seemed ready to stop and chat. No one did. No one at the stage depot took notice of her either.

She was all but invisible to everyone arriving in Crystal Springs. Twenty-five years old, her brown hair tucked beneath a bonnet, she wore the same sort of clothing as all the women in town. She looked as if she belonged there.

No one noticed that she watched the stage passengers, scrutinizing their appearance, their clothes and manners. Even if anyone commented about her odd behavior, Kinsey wouldn’t have changed her ways. She couldn’t. She had no choice.

Because she knew that still, after all the miles, all the towns and all the these years, someone would come after her.

How would she recognize him? A family resemblance? Maybe. Maybe not. More likely his clothing. Eastern. Well-cut and expensive. His appearance would be out of place here in the West. He’d have the look of a dandy. A thief.

A predator.

Kinsey turned her attention to the husband and wife in front of the depot. The two of them talked for a few minutes before he pointed to the White Dove Café down the street. The couple was passing through, Kinsey decided, and focused on the two women and young boy who were now speaking to the express agent. She dismissed them as quickly, realizing they were, like so many other travelers she’d seen, inquiring about their layover time. She settled her gaze on the man who’d been the last to exit the stage.

His back was to her as he gazed westward down the street. Tall, wide-shouldered and long-legged. Hours on the cramped stage had surely been difficult for a man his size.

He wore dark trousers and vest, and a pale blue shirt. His black hat covered most of his equally black hair. A pistol was holstered low on his thigh. He carried a small satchel in his hand.

The man seemed to fit in, in dress and manner, at least from what she could see from across the street. Yet a unease crept over Kinsey, as if—

He turned quickly to answer the shotgun rider who’d called to him from atop the stage. Kinsey’s heart rushed into her throat.

Good gracious, he was handsome. Clean-shaven and carefully groomed despite the long stagecoach trip, yet somehow displaying a rugged air at the same time. Long limbs, stolid, sturdy. He carried an air of confidence, perhaps bordering on arrogance, as he spoke. A man used to being in charge.

The shotgun rider tossed down a valise and he caught it easily. He was staying in Crystal Springs. Kinsey’s stomach fluttered unexpectedly and her heart thudded harder until—

“Mama! You’re squeezing me!”

Kinsey gasped and leaned down to her son, easing her grip on his hand and pulling it up to plant a kiss on his tiny fingers.

“Mama’s so sorry, Sam,” she said, watching the little frown disappear from his face. “Let’s go into the store. I’ll bet Miss Ida has a treat for you.”

He darted ahead of her in typical five-year-old fashion, scooting through the open door of the MacAvoy General Store before Kinsey could catch his hand again. She smiled with motherly pride. Sam was a beautiful child, with dark hair and blue eyes. He was a joy. Smart, too. Miss Peyton had allowed him to start school already. The townsfolk had taken to him—and Kinsey—immediately. Crystal Springs felt like home now, despite the short time they’d lived there.

Kinsey headed into the general store, knowing she’d find Sam sitting on the counter, Ida Burk presenting him with a peppermint stick from one of the glass display jars. But at the doorway she turned back and cast another look at the stage depot. At the man.

In that instant he turned her way, and for a second their gazes met and held. Kinsey’s breath caught. Her heart started up its thumping again and her stomach gave a quick lurch. He stared right back at her, frozen, as she was, for a few seconds.

Kinsey came to her senses with a little gasp and dashed into the general store, leaving the stranger staring after her.

What the hell was he doing.

Jared Mason gave himself a mental shake, silently admonishing himself for blatantly ogling the woman across the street. True, she was pretty; he could tell that even from a distance. And true, he’d been cooped up on the stage for days—and before that, weeks on the train—and this was the first woman who’d caught his eye, so he guessed he owed it to himself to enjoy the view.

Yet that wasn’t what he was here for.

Jared adjusted his grip on his valise and satchel, and headed down the street toward the hotel the shotgun rider had told him about.

Walking, stretching his legs felt good. Jared kept his pace steady, more interested in looking over the town than getting to the hotel.

Crystal Springs, Colorado, seemed like a prosperous place. Jared spied stores, restaurants, a bank, a hotel and several other businesses. Men in suits roamed the street alongside cowboys carrying guns on their hips, miners with long beards, women in gingham dresses. The town looked clean, and from the talk he’d heard on the stagecoach, the place was growing.

Another new face among the townsfolk wouldn’t draw much attention, Jared decided, and that suited his purpose well. He needed to blend in, to look like he belonged. The element of surprise was essential. He’d known that since he set out on this trip, several weeks and thousands of miles ago.

After crossing the Mississippi, Jared had abandoned the private railroad car and sent it back to New York, continuing the journey in the cars with the other passengers. Over the next weeks at some of the train stops, he’d slowly changed his appearance.

Suit, silk shirt and cravat exchanged for Levi’s trousers, vests and cotton shirts. Italian leather shoes gone, replaced by boots. A wide-brimmed black Stetson hat. He’d bought a pistol and shoved it into the holster on his hip; he had yet to fire it but he did know how to load it.

The transformation of his appearance had been completed somewhere in Kansas. Jared didn’t recall exactly where now. The train depots, the small towns, the scenery had blurred a long time ago.

In the town of Cold Creek, about fifty miles to the east, Jared had abandoned the train. He couldn’t take another day of cinders and smoke blowing in through the open windows, the clacking of the rails, the relentless swaying, the screaming whistle. He boarded the stagecoach bound for Crystal Springs.

Jared glanced down at the satchel he carried and the technical journals tucked inside. They’d saved his sanity, along with the newspapers he’d bought along the way.

All he’d been able to do for the duration of the crosscountry trip was read. And think. Think about what he’d lost. And what he’d come here to get back.

At the corner he stopped and eyed the Crystal Springs Hotel across the street, suddenly anxious to get inside, book a room, get cleaned up and grab a few hours of sleep. But his gaze swung to the general store down the block and the spot where he’d seen the pretty woman standing in the doorway. She was gone now, but her image lingered in his mind.

She’d had a market basket on her arm so she was probably shopping. For supper, maybe? For her family?

A raw surge of emotion ripped through Jared. A cozy home. A warm kitchen. A good meal on the table. Someone special waiting.

“Damn…”

Jared bit off a worse curse as the painful reminder of why he’d come here twisted inside him. He trudged on toward the hotel, as anxious as ever to get this job done. Once more he silently vowed he wouldn’t go home empty-handed. And after this long, arduous journey, he wasn’t particular about how he accomplished his task.

But he wouldn’t fail. He’d head back east quickly.

As soon as he got what he’d come here for.

Chapter Two

“That’s not what I heard,” Lily Vaughn said, raising her eyebrows.

Kinsey glanced up from the two pans of frying chicken on the cookstove and looked at her friend at the worktable beside her. Lily was only a few years younger, pretty, with a head full of wild golden curls she struggled to keep contained in a bun at her nape.

“What did you hear?” Kinsey asked.

Lily looked around the kitchen, causing Kinsey to do the same. The big room held enough cupboards, cabinets and workspaces to provide the two meals a day necessary to keep the boardinghouse residents happy. Kinsey had come to work there, cooking and cleaning, shortly after arriving in Crystal Springs.

“Well, I heard that after church last Sunday, the two of them went for a walk down by the creek and—” Lily leaned in and whispered in Kinsey’s ear.

She gasped and pulled away. “My goodness, she—”

“Are you two girls gossiping again?”

Nell Taylor came through the swinging door from the adjoining dining room, giving them a stern look.

“Because if you are,” Nell said with a sly smile, “you’d better wait until I get in here so I can hear it, too.”

Kinsey giggled, at ease in the Taylor home. Not only had Nell given her a job but she also allowed her to live in a room off the kitchen at the rear of the house. It was small, but plenty big enough for Kinsey and Sam. Nell had given Lily a room up on the third floor of the big house next to her own when the young woman had come to work for her a few weeks ago.

Nell’s husband, the woman was fond of saying, did things in a grand way, except save money. He’d died, leaving his widow nothing but the house. Nell had converted it into a boarding home and managed quite nicely with Lily and Kinsey as hired help.

“I was hoping Kinsey would have some gossip for us, Nell,” Lily said, returning to the biscuit dough on the worktable. “Did you hear anything more about that hateful old Miss Patterson while you were in town this afternoon?”

“Some people prefer to think of Bess Patterson as set in her ways,” Nell pointed out.

“I think she’s mean and completely unreasonable,” Lily said. “What sort of woman would hold a church hostage—just to get her own way?”

“It’s her money,” Nell said. “She can decide what she wants the church to look like.”

“I still say it’s shameful,” Lily declared.

Kinsey thought the same but didn’t say so, as she stirred the pot of potatoes boiling on the stove. The town’s only church had burned to the ground and Bess Patterson, the wealthiest and, some said, most peculiar woman in Crystal Springs, had offered to pay for its rebuilding—provided the structure met her specifications. So far, none of the plans met with her approval.

“I didn’t hear anything new on the subject at the general store,” Kinsey offered.

Both Lily and Nell looked disappointed. Nell got a stack of plates from the cupboard and headed back into the dining room.

“So what is new in town?” Lily asked, cutting biscuits from the dough.

The image of the stranger from the stagecoach bloomed large in Kinsey’s mind. He’d lurked in her thoughts ever since she’d hurried into the general store this afternoon to avoid his gaze, and once again his memory made her stomach a little jumpy. But just why that happened, she wasn’t sure.

“Well?” Lily prompted.

“Nothing,” Kinsey said quickly. “Nothing’s new in town.”

“Not a thing?” Lily asked hopefully, as if it might prompt her to recall something.

Stalling for time and struggling to put thoughts of the stranger aside, Kinsey glanced out the window at the boys playing in the neighbor’s yard. She spotted Sam quickly, running and waving a stick alongside the Gleason boys. Dora Gleason had four sons; one more child in her yard didn’t matter one way or the other, she’d said. Sam was close to the same age as the Gleasons and they all got along well.

“I saw Isaac in town,” Kinsey said softly.

Lily’s spine stiffened. “Sheriff Vaughn, you mean?”

“I mean your husband.”

Lily jammed the biscuit cutter into the dough and, after a few minutes asked, “Did he say…anything?”

“He said—”

“No. Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“Lily, you know I’ve stayed out of the business between the two of you but—”

“Please, Kinsey….” Lily closed her eyes and turned her head away.

Kinsey wiped her hands on her apron and touched her friend’s arm. “I understand.”

Lily turned to her again, tears welling in her eyes.

“It’s hard enough dealing with…what happened…”

“I know.”

“Oh, just look at me carrying on so.” Lily pulled out of her grasp and swiped at her tears with the hem of her apron. “And in front of you, of all people. I’m so sorry, Kinsey. How thoughtless of me. Here you are a widow with a little boy to raise all by yourself. You’ve lost your husband and you probably resent the way I’m treating mine.”

“It’s all right,” Kinsey said, because, really, it was.

She hadn’t taken sides in the Vaughns’ marital problems but she understood the situation well enough to know there was no easy answer.

“Do you miss your husband terribly?” Lily asked.

“Well…” Kinsey lowered her lashes and drew in a breath, trying to appear brave, as she always did when the matter of her dear departed came up.

“It’s hard for you to talk about him.” Lily shook her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Kinsey pushed her chin up. “It’s…difficult.”

“Why don’t you go on over to the White Dove?” Lily suggested, seemingly anxious to get off the subject of husbands, both living and dead. “Saturday is their busiest night and if you go over now, you can get a jump on those dishes and get home early, take your time getting ready for services tomorrow.”

On Sundays the boardinghouse didn’t provide meals for its residents, other than a cold breakfast. It was the only day Kinsey, Lily and Nell could call their own.

“But I’m not finished here,” Kinsey said, waving toward the boiling and sizzling pots and pans on the cookstove.

“I can do it,” Lily insisted. “You run on. And don’t worry about Sam. I’ll make sure he comes back from the Gleasons before dark.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Kinsey said, feeling a little guilty.

“Of course I’m sure,” Lily said.

Kinsey exchanged her apron for her wrap, bonnet and handbag and went out the back door. Her gaze settled on Sam still playing with the other boys, and immediately all troubling thoughts left her. She called to him and he rushed over, still clutching the stick in his hand.

“Having fun, honey?” she asked, kneeling in front of him.

“Yeah, Mama,” he said breathlessly, bouncing on his toes and waving the stick. “I shot ’em all.”

She smiled and smoothed back his damp bangs. “Mama’s going to the White Dove now. Miss Lily will come get you in a little while. You stay right here with the Gleason boys. Understand?”

“Okay, Mama,” he said, glancing back at the boys still running through the yard.

“Give Mama a hug.”

She opened her arms and Sam launched himself against her, his smooth cheek resting on hers, both arms curled around her neck. Kinsey held him to her, soaking up the treasured moment.

Then he pulled away and she managed to get a quick kiss on his cheek before he dashed back into the fray, shooting the Gleason boys with his pretend gun.

Kinsey rose slowly, her heart aching a little. Until Sam came along, she hadn’t imagined the depth of love she could feel for another human being.

He’d changed everything. Given her purpose, given her a passion for life she thought she’d lost years ago. Her love for the child had awakened a fierceness that she’d not known she had. Maybe no woman knew she possessed it until she had a child of her own. A child she’d lay down her life for.

A child she’d kill for.

Tears welled in Kinsey’s eyes, and the intensity of her feelings hardened her stomach into a tight knot. She’d keep Sam safe.

No matter what.

* * *

Jared settled into a chair beside the front window of the White Dove Café and tossed his hat into the empty seat beside him. The holstered pistol pulled against his thigh, annoying him. He wasn’t used to wearing the thing. He’d even forgotten it in his hotel room just now and was halfway down to the lobby when he remembered it and had to go back for it.

The restaurant was still busy, even though it was late, and the delicious aroma of the food made Jared’s mouth water. A good hot meal was just what he needed right now.

After getting off the stage earlier today, he’d gotten a room and a bath at the Crystal Springs Hotel, then lain down, intending to grab a few minutes of rest only to wake up several hours later. Staring into the dimly lit hotel room, it had taken him a while to remember where he was. He sprang out of bed and got dressed, grateful for the solid floor beneath his feet instead of the buck and sway of trains and the stagecoach.

The serving girl, a young woman with pale blond hair, approached the table carrying a coffee pot.

“Hi. I’m Dixie. Menu’s up on the wall,” she said, waving toward the chalkboard by the front door. She leaned down to fill his cup, resting her hand on the back of his chair. “See anything you—like?”

All he could see were her bosoms about six inches from his face, reminding him of what a long uneventful journey the trip from New York had been.

“Just, ah, just bring me whatever’s good,” he said.

Dixie’s smile turned sultry. “Oh, it’s all good.”

She winked, then sauntered across the restaurant and through the swinging door to the kitchen.

Jared doused his coffee with sugar and sipped as he looked out the window, avoiding the gazes of some of the other diners who’d turned to stare.

The last of the sun cast long shadows down the dirt streets. Few people moved about as the stores closed for the night. Farther down the street he caught a glimpse of the Wild Cat Saloon. The place was brightly lit and already a stream of cowboys and miners passed through the bat-wing doors. Saturday night, he remembered.

His mind swept back to memories of other Saturday nights in the thirty-two years of his life. Everything from suppers in a tuxedo to grabbing for the last pork chop off the platter in the lumber camp chow hall. Jared smiled at the thoughts.

His father had built a highly successful construction business in New York and had insisted that all of his five sons learn it from the ground up. That had meant summers at lumber camps and sawmills, sweeping up offices, working as an apprentice to architects and engineers before being sent off for a formal education. It had led to Jared, the oldest son, spending most of his time away from home.

And it had led to the death of his closest brother.

A different woman—this one with gray hair and a no-nonsense demeanor—brought him a plate of hot food. He dug in, turning his attention once more out the window. Jared took the time to study the buildings along Main Street as he ate, a habit deeply ingrained in him.

Wooden structures with simple lines. Functional. Nothing fancy. But that’s the sort of construction called for here. It would change, though, as the town grew and a bigger, more diversified population brought new ideas with it. Towns like Crystal Springs drew all sorts of people.

He wondered what it was, exactly, that had drawn the woman who’d run off with his brother’s baby to this place.

Clark. Younger than Jared by only a year. The two brothers had been inseparable growing up. They’d stayed close, exchanging letters even during the time Jared had been in Pennsylvania overseeing the construction of a mill for his father’s company, and Clark had been in Virginia doing the same for a factory and warehouse complex.

Jared had been surprised the day he’d received the letter from Clark saying he’d gotten married.

He’d been devastated the day he got the telegram telling him that Clark had died.

Jared had never met Beth Templeton Mason. No one else in the family had met her either, except his mother who’d traveled to Virginia for a visit shortly after the wedding.

No one in the Mason family knewquite what to think when the widow had shipped Clark’s body home to New York, along with his personal effects, and was never heard from again. They’d been content to leave it at that until a few months ago when Jared’s mother had come across a forgotten stash of Clark’s belongings. Among a stack of correspondence shoved carelessly into the crate she’d found an unfinished letter from Clark announcing the news that his wifewas expecting a baby.

A baby. A Mason. Heir to the hard-earned family wealth and social position. Amelia Mason’s first and only grandchild. She wanted that baby, and Jared was only too happy to take up the chore himself.

A hired investigator had tracked Clark’s wife through a series of towns and menial jobs until he’d located her here in Crystal Springs. She’d done a poor job of hiding her true identity, simply giving herself a new first name and dropping her married name.

Just why she’d run off with Clark’s son, no one knew.

All the family knew was that they wanted the boy in NewYork with the Masons, where he belonged. Jared had taken over the task himself and made the trip to Crystal Springs.

All he had to do was find the woman. That wouldn’t be hard in a town this size. He silently chastised himself for sleeping all afternoon. Otherwise, he was sure he could have located her before nightfall.

Jared pushed his empty plate away and Dixie caught his attention coming through the swinging door from the kitchen. But it wasn’t she who caused him to sit up in his chair. It was the woman he spotted behind her in the busy kitchen, elbow-deep in a tub of sudsy water.

The woman he’d seen across the street from the stage depot this afternoon.

Steam from the hot water made her face dewy. Tendrils of her dark hair curled around her cheeks. Her arms, exposed clear past her elbows, were smooth and a little pink as she washed dishes. Someone in the kitchen must have said something funny because she was laughing. Her face was lit up, glowing.

Jared wished he could hear her. He wished he was in the kitchen with her to listen to the melody of her voice, see her smile up close…see all of her up close.

Her bibbed apron outlined the swell of her breasts and the sash tied tight around her waist showed the flare of her hips. Sudden, strong desire claimed Jared, producing predictable results.

Dixie stepped in front of him, cutting off his view of the kitchen. She held a slice of berry pie in front of him.

“You look like a man who’d enjoy something hot and juicy,” she said, leaning toward him. “You interested?”

His desire cooled a little. He took the saucer from her hand. “This will do fine,” he told her.

She lingered just long enough to give him a knowing look, then disappeared into the kitchen again. Jared watched, catching another glimpse of the woman at the washtub as the door swung open, savoring the sight of her until it closed again.

Jared finished his pie and coffee and left money on the table. He held back the urge to leave a generous tip, as he usually did, not wanting to call attention to himself. Outside on the boardwalk, he drew in a breath of the cool night air. It was dark now; lanterns burning in the windows down Main Street provided faint light.

Things had picked up at the Wild Cat Saloon. Horses were tied to the hitching posts all along the street. Piano music flowed out along with the drone of voices. Jared considered going inside, having a beer, but decided to get the lay of the town instead.

He walked past the many businesses that lined Main Street, all closed for the night. Above them, on second floors, windows glowed with lantern light. Jared imagined weary merchants and their families having supper around a kitchen table, talking over their day, planning for tomorrow.

Across the street, the sheriff left the jailhouse. He was a big fellow with a pistol on each hip, carrying a sawed-off shotgun. A lot of firepower. Jared thought the lawman might need it. Every cowboy and miner he’d seen walk into the saloon tonight carried a gun.

He dropped his hand to the pistol on his hip. Maybe he’d hire a horse from the livery tomorrow and ride out of town a ways, find a spot to target practice. He wasn’t a stranger to guns, exactly, though he certainly didn’t carry one with him every day back in New York. He’d hunted for deer and wild turkey, on occasion. But he’d never fired a pistol, and he sure as hell had never shot at a human being.

At the edge of town Jared spotted a number of houses lining the street. Trees and picket fences, big porches with swings. Homes where families lived.

The thought of returning to his hotel room seemed less appealing by the minute.

By the time Jared ambled his way back down Main Street, loud, raucous laughter spilled out of the Wild Cat. He stopped across the street, but his gaze wandered down the block to the White Dove Café.

The restaurant was dark now. Had the woman he’d seen washing dishes finished her chores and gone home already? An odd feeling of loss came over Jared as he realized that, if he’d hung around, he could have seen her again.

At that instant a woman stepped out of the alley that ran next to the White Dove. Faint light caught her face.

It was her.

Jared’s breath caught and he took a step toward her just as gunshots rang out. From the corner of his eye he saw several men rush out of the saloon firing pistols.

Jared ran for the woman.

The gunfire registered in Kinsey’s mind just seconds before a man barreled at her from nowhere. He threw his arms around her and pulled her into the alley, pressing her back to the side of the restaurant. He held her tight against his chest, locked in his arms, shielding her, her nose buried against his throat.

Her mind raced. Was she being attacked? Or rescued?

She wasn’t going to linger to find out.

Kinsey struggled against the man but she was held prisoner, sandwiched between the wall of the restaurant and the man’s hard chest and encircling arms. She couldn’t get away, could barely move. All she could manage was to lean her head away far enough to look up at him.

Recognition stilled her. It was the man from the stage depot. The one who’d stolen her attention, made her heart beat fast. The one she’d thought so handsome. And now here he was, holding her.

He gazed down at her, still not releasing her from his firm grasp.

“There’s shooting down at the saloon,” he said softly. “I didn’t want you to get hit.”

Kinsey looked into his eyes, lost for a moment in the effects of the soft light from the street playing about his face. She saw the hard jut of his jaw, and his clean, cotton scent washed over her. Her heart banged harder now, but not from fear. It was from—well, she didn’t know what it was from.

Still holding her in his arms, the man touched his finger to her cheek, spreading a line of fire down her jaw.

“Are you…are you all right?” he asked.

No. No, she wasn’t all right. Her breasts were pressed against his hard chest, and his legs were brushing hers. He held her in a way that sent her heart racing.

“Yes…yes, I’m fine,” she managed to say. “Are you all—”

Jared kissed her. He couldn’t stop himself. As if some unknown force had claimed him, robbed him of his good sense and free will.

His mouth covered hers, soft and moist. Slowly he worked his lips over hers, blending them together.

But it wasn’t some unknown force making him do this, he realized, as a rational thought coasted through his mind. It was this woman. There was something about her….

Kinsey hung in his embrace for a stunned second, then rose on her toes and leaned her head back a little. He groaned and deepened their kiss until—

“What’s going on here?” a man demanded.

Kinsey gasped at the familiar voice. It was the sheriff.

The man whirled, keeping himself in front of Kinsey, shielding her. Humiliation burned in her. What in the world had she been doing?

She stepped from behind the stranger, anxious to put some distance between the two of them.

“It’s nothing, Sheriff Vaughn,” she said, and cringed inwardly at her own shaky voice. Kinsey pointed lamely down the street, realizing that all was quiet now. “The shooting at the Wild Cat…this—this gentleman was just protecting me.”

Sheriff Vaughn studied them for a moment, his gaze bouncing between the two of them.

“You all right?” he asked, his voice a little gentler.

“Yes, Sheriff, I’m fine.”

“Run on ahead,” he said, nodding in the direction of the boardinghouse. “I’ll catch up in a minute. See you safely home.”

Kinsey hurried away, thankful for the darkness that hid her hot cheeks.

Jared watched her go, heat still coursing through him. He couldn’t take his gaze off her, until from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the sheriff and the shotgun he pointed at Jared’s gut.

Sheriff Vaughn was a big man, probably not any older than Jared, but with a hard look and sturdy countenance that surely helped keep him alive in his chosen profession.

The sheriff asked his name and, after Jared provided it, asked, “Where are you from? What are you doing in Crystal Springs?”

“I’m from back east,” Jared said. “Here on business.”

The lawman still didn’t back off, which surprised Jared a little. Small towns like Crystal Springs went to great lengths to lure new business and usually went out of their way to accommodate newcomers. Apparently Sheriff Vaughn didn’t feel that way.

Or maybe he just didn’t like Jared.

“We watch after our women in this town,” Sheriff Vaughn said, hefting the shotgun a little higher. “Even the widows. So don’t go getting any ideas. Mrs. Templeton is well thought of around here.”

Jared’s heart lurched. “Templeton? Kinsey Templeton?”

The sheriff narrowed his gaze at him. “You best watch yourself, Mason. I’m keeping an eye on you.”

Jared stepped up onto the boardwalk as the sheriff strode away. Down the street he caught sight of a skirt swishing in the dim light.

Kinsey Templeton. The woman who’d stolen the first Mason grandchild. He’d found her.

Jared swore under his breath. He’d found his brother’s wife, all right.

And he’d kissed her.

Chapter Three

The towering shade trees that had once sheltered the church lay ahead and Kinsey was never more anxious in her life to get to Sunday service. She had more than her share of sins to atone for this morning.

Already a crowd had gathered. Folks huddled in small circles catching up on news, sharing concern about the sick and shut-ins in Crystal Springs. Children in their Sunday best tugged at their mothers’ hands, anxious to play with friends.

Sam did that now. Kinsey held tight, not wanting him to start roughhousing with the other boys and get dirty before services started.

The church had burned completely to the ground—thankfully no one had been injured—and everyone felt lucky that Reverend Battenfield had agreed to move to Crystal Springs to tend to their spiritual needs, especially under the circumstances. The reverend and his wife, an older couple, were a welcome addition to the town.

With the charred remains as a backdrop, the reverend preached his sermon every Sunday to the townsfolk whowere seated on makeshift benches some of the men in town had built. Kinsey suspected he hoped the difficult circumstances under which he ministered to his flock would be noticed and might loosen purse strings when the building-fund collection plate made its rounds.

Nell and Lily had left the boardinghouse well ahead of Kinsey and she saw them now talking with several other women. Usually, she would have joined them. But this morning Kinsey searched the crowd for someone else.

Sheriff Vaughn.

Embarrassment rose in Kinsey once more and she tried to fight it off so her cheeks wouldn’t turn red again. Good gracious, she’d been caught kissing a man in the alley. What must the sheriff think of her? He hadn’t mentioned it when he’d walked her to the boardinghouse last night, but what if he brought it up this morning? How would she possibly explain it to him?

When she didn’t even understand it herself.

Despite her best effort, Kinsey felt her cheeks grow warm. Because the truth was the stranger hadn’t just kissed her. She’d kissed him back. And her wanton actions hadn’t stopped there. She’d raised herself up on her toes—up on her toes. Leaned her head back so he could kiss her better.

How humiliating. How embarrassing. How could she have done that?

And what was this phantom warmth that lingered in the pit of her stomach hours later?

“Mama, can I go play?” Samasked, tugging on her arm.

Thankfully, reality pushed all thoughts of the stranger in the alley to the back of Kinsey’s mind as she turned her attention to her son. His hair was still damp, slicked into place from when she’d combed it earlier. He wore his Sunday best, dark trousers and the white shirt, that she’d helped him get into after she’d donned her own blue dress and bonnet.

“Can I, Mama? Can I?” he asked, tugging on her arms and hopping up and down.

She glanced across the crowded churchyard and saw several of the boys Sam went to school with playing together.

“All right, you can play for a while. But don’t get—”

Sam jerked away from her and raced toward his friends before she could remind him not to get dirty. As if he would have listened anyway, Kinsey thought with a faint smile.

Just then, Sam tripped on something and fell flat on his belly. A man stepped away from the group of men he’d been talking with and knelt down to help.

Kinsey headed over, not particularly concerned that Sam had hurt himself. He was a tough little fellow and had taken harder falls playing with the Gleason brothers in their backyard. She hadn’t heard him scream, either, the distinctive sound that determined whether a mother responded at a walk, or a dead run.

The man helped Sam to his feet and spoke to him, bringing Kinsey to a quick halt. It was the stranger, the man she’d kissed in the alley.

But he was more than that.

Kinsey saw the stranger and Sam in profile. Same chin. Same nose. Same black hair.

They both turned to her. Eyes and mouth. Nearly identical. Sam’s features were soft. The man’s were hard, straight, rugged. This was what her son would grow up to look like.

Kinsey’s blood ran cold.

Jared Mason had found her.

She charged across the churchyard, her search for the sheriff forgotten, as Jared got to his feet. She swept Sam into her arms. Startled, he let out a scream but Kinsey clamped him against her and dashed through the crowd. At the edge of the churchyard, she ran.

It had taken only a question or two to the men standing with him in the churchyard for Jared to learn where the woman who now called herself Kinsey Templeton lived. Luckily, the sheriff hadn’t been within earshot when Jared had asked his casual questions, and none of the other men noticed when he slipped away.

He’d seen Taylor’s Boardinghouse last night, he realized as he stopped in front of the big white-andgreen house with a front porch swing. Well-made, structurally sound. But was it a clean, decent place for Clark’s son to live?

Another swell of emotion overtook Jared. Clark’s son. He’d known the minute he laid eyes on the boy. He, like Jared, favored the Mason side of the family, though Clark had not.

Even if Jared hadn’t seen the family resemblance, the look on Kinsey Templeton’s face would have told him who the child was. Shock. Fear. And something else.

Courage, Jared realized. The courage of a mama bear come to do battle for her cub. Under other circumstances, Kinsey would have turned and run at the sight of Jared. But she’d charged in, taken her child. He’d seen the fierceness in her eyes.

Jared wondered for the first time since starting this journey what Kinsey Templeton might do to keep her son.

The front door of the boardinghouse was unlocked so Jared walked inside. The parlor was neat, nicely furnished with two settees, several chairs, bookcases and a piano. Off to the right, the large dining room table was backed by a china hutch, its beveled glass doors sparkling in the morning sunlight that beamed into the room.

The place was silent. Jared figured everyone was at church.

Everyone but Kinsey and Sam.

He glanced up the staircase, listened for a moment, then headed down the long hallway toward the back of the house. The men at church had told him Kinsey lived and worked here so he went into the kitchen and, sure enough, spotted her in a small bedroom.

Already she had a satchel sitting on the bed and drawers open in the bureau. Sam stared up at her, grass stain on his shirt, tears on his cheeks.

Jared crossed the kitchen and planted himself in the bedroom doorway. Kinsey whirled, saw him, stepped in front of Sam and pushed her chin up. They glared at each other for a few seconds, sizing each other up.

“You’re frightening the boy,” Jared said softly.

“Keep away from us.”

“You and I need to talk.”

Sam peeked around his mama’s skirt and Jared’s chest tightened. His brother’s child. The only thing left of him. And only one way—one easy way—to get him.

Jared took a step backwards. “Let the boy go outside and play. He doesn’t need to hear this.”

Kinsey didn’t move. Not an ounce of trust showed in her expression. Jared didn’t blame her. If he had a treasure like this, he’d protect it with his life, too.

“I’m just here to talk,” Jared said, holding out both palms.

He retreated to the other side of the kitchen, well away from the bedroom and the door that led outside. After a moment, Kinsey knelt and spoke softly to the boy. He sniffed and nodded. She pulled a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and wiped his eyes and nose, then lifted him into her arms and carried him to the back door. She stood there for a moment, the cool breeze blowing in, and eyed Jared hard. He backed up another step and she put the boy down, spoke to him again, then watched while he ran outside and pulled himself into the rope swing that hung from an oak tree in the backyard.

Kinsey pushed the door closed and turned to Jared, her hand behind her, still on the knob.

“You’re not taking him,” she said. “If that’s what you’re here for, you may as well leave right now.”

His gaze darted to the window. “That’s really him? That’s Clark’s son?”

She hadn’t expected to hear the softness in his voice, the sorrow and longing. With some effort, Kinsey hardened her heart again.

“You’re Jared, aren’t you?” she asked. “Clark spoke of you. I knew you’d be the one to come.”

His eyes cut toward her and Kinsey saw the hard edge, the toughness—both mental and physical—Clark had told her about. Jared, the oldest of the brothers. Biggest, smartest. The leader.

The only Mason tougher than Jared, Clark had said, was their mother. Kinsey knew that was true.

She knew, too, that she was cornered. Escape wasn’t possible, not at the moment, and she’d have to deal with this man.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking a little unsure of himself.

“About last night….” Jared cleared his throat. “I didn’t know that was you in the alley. I sawyou across the street from the stage depot and again working in the restaurant kitchen, but I didn’t know who you were. I wouldn’t have…kissed you, if I’d known. Sheriff told me afterwards.”

Heat rushed into her cheeks. Kinsey glanced away.

“It’s dangerous for you to be on the streets like that at night,” Jared said.

“Worried that somebody might grab me?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Like you did?”

His gaze hardened a bit. “I only meant to protect you when the shooting started at the saloon.”

Kinsey gestured toward his pistol. “I’m surprised you didn’t start shooting, too, like most men would have done.”

“Oh.” Jared looked down at the gun. “Well…”

“So I owe you my thanks,” Kinsey said. “For that.”

Jared walked to the window. Kinsey turned and they stood together watching Sam in the swing. Several long minutes crept by, the silence reminding Kinsey of exactly who this man beside her was, even if she had raised onto tiptoes to kiss him.

“He’s healthy?” Jared asked.

Kinsey nodded. “Smart, too. He’s in school. The schoolmarm was impressed that he can read already.”

“You taught him?”

“Sam’s got a quick mind,” Kinsey said. “Like Clark.”

She sawthe hard look on Jared’s face soften again, revealing the hurt and sorrow that he surely still felt for his brother, and that he probably preferred Kinsey didn’t see.

“His name is Samuel?” Jared asked.

“After your father,” Kinsey said. “Itwas Clark’s idea.”

Another quiet moment passed before Jared spoke again.

“We need to talk this out,” he said.

“No, we don’t. You need to leave.”

“I won’t do that.”

They squared off. Kinsey felt her anger rise. She saw Jared’s jawtighten, but he drewin a calming breath.

“I want both of you to come back to New York with me,” he said, “and live in our home.”

“We have a home.”

“Sam’s family is there.”

“I’m Sam’s family,” Kinsey said. “I’ve been taking care of him since the day he was born and I don’t need any—”

“You call this taking care of him?” Jared demanded, waving his arms. “Living in the back room of a boardinghouse? Working two jobs to scrape by?”

“I take excellent care of Sam!”

“How much money have you put away?” He edged closer. “What if he gets sick? Can you buy medicine? Pay a doctor?”

“I’ll find a way—”

“What about his future? His schooling? His education?”

“I can manage—”

“You’re robbing him of what’s rightfully his. Did you think about that?” Jared asked. “The boy’s entitled to Clark’s inheritance.”

“I don’t need—”

“The Mason family is one of the most powerful in the East,” Jared told her. “We’ve got money—lots of money. We’ve got political connections. Social position. We know important people in high places who can get things done. All of that is Sam’s birthright. He’ll have everything he could ever need.”

“I don’t want that sort of life for him,” Kinsey said.

“It’s too late for that,” Jared said. He jabbed his finger toward the window. “He’s a Mason.”

She shook her head frantically. “No.”

“And so are you.” Jared pointed at her now. “You can make up a new first name and call yourself Kinsey, and you can drop your married name and pretend you’re a Templeton again, but you’re still a Mason. Still my brother’s wife. Still a part of the Mason family.”

Kinsey gasped and pressed her lips together, forbidding herself to say another word. Jared glared down at her. She drew in a breath, forcing herself to stay calm, to think.

She lowered her lashes, then looked up at him again.

“You’re right, of course,” she said quietly. “I just need some time to think things over.”

Jared backed off a little and nodded. “Fine, then.”

Kinsey opened the back door and stepped outside, watching as Jared cast a last look at Sam in the swing, then headed toward town.

Her heart thundered in her chest and she wondered how she’d gotten so lucky.

Jared Mason didn’t know who she really was.

Chapter Four

No trains today.

Kinsey made her way down the boardwalk, her mind whirling. No trains expected through Crystal Springs until the end of the week. No stagecoach due for two more days. She’d committed the schedules to memory a long time ago. That’s how she knew there’d be no escape from the town—from Jared Mason—today.

When Nell and Lily had come home from church yesterday and inquired about her abrupt departure, Kinsey had calmed herself enough tomake a reasonable excuse that they hadn’t questioned. If her two friends noticed that she’d been on edge the whole evening or watched Sam in the backyard like a hawk, they hadn’t mentioned it.

No one had noticed the family resemblance between Sam and Jared Mason either, thank goodness. But why would they?

She hadn’t noticed it herself the first time she’d seen Jared, not even when he’d kissed her.

Kinsey had tossed and turned most of the night debating on what she should do, what she could do. Her first thought had been to run again but that wouldn’t be possible right now. A few other plans had bloomed in her mind as she’d lain awake staring at the ceiling, listening to Sam’s breathing from his little bed across the room. They were dangerous, foolish, probably even under ordinary circumstances.

But dealing with Jared would prove anything but ordinary, she knew.

Her saving grace was that, at the moment, he didn’t know who she really was. But if he ever checked deeper, if he ever found out…

Kinsey stepped off the boardwalk and hurried down the alley beside the White Dove Café. She averted her eyes, not wanting to look at the spot where she’d allowed the man who was trying to ruin her life to hold her and kiss her, but warmth flushed inside her just the same.

This morning she’d gotten Sam off to school and taken care of her share of the kitchen chores at the boardinghouse before heading into town. Because around dawn, it had occurred to her that before she worried herself silly and ran away from a town she truly liked, she ought to do a little checking of her own.

At the back entrance to the White Dove, she went inside and found Mrs. Townsend, the woman who owned the place and let Kinsey work there two nights a week washing dishes, at the cookstove. The kitchen smelled wonderful, delicious aromas of ham, eggs, biscuits filling the room.

“How’s business this morning?” Kinsey asked, pushing open the swinging door to the dining room just wide enough to sneak a quick peek inside.

The restaurant was half full. No sign of Jared yet. But she knew he’d be back. The White Dove was by far the best restaurant in town. No Mason, Kinsey knew, would settle for less. Certainly not Jared, after he’d bragged yesterday about the powerful Mason family, with their political connections, social position and their important friends in high places.

“Slow, thankfully.” Mrs. Townsend shook her head. “I’m shorthanded—again.”

A quick glance around the kitchen told Kinsey that once more, Dixie hadn’t reported for work on time. The young woman had gained an unsavory reputation in Crystal Springs and was frequently the topic of gossip. She was family, though, and Mrs. Townsend didn’t have much choice about keeping her on.

“Do you need me to help out?” Kinsey asked, cracking the door again to glance inside the dining room.

“Roy’s helping,” the woman said, nodding toward the window where her husband was loading up more logs from the woodpile. “We’ll be fine. Dixie will be along shortly. I saw you leave church yesterday. Missed you at the service.”

“Neither Sam nor I were feeling well. I should have kept us both at home,” Kinsey said, surprised at how easily the lie rolled off her tongue. She glanced into the dining room again. “Anything new from Miss Patterson?”

“I heard Reverend Battenfield was planning to pay a call on her yesterday afternoon,” Mrs. Townsend said, flipping eggs onto a platter and shaking her head. “He was taking the mayor with him along with Herb Foster.”

“From the feed and grain store?” Kinsey asked, frowning.

“Herb is just sure he’s come up with a plan for the new church that Miss Patterson will love.”

Herb wore checkered trousers and striped shirts thinking himself an Eastern dandy, so Kinsey had her doubts about whether he could impress the persnickety Bess Patterson with his ideas for the new church.

“If we don’t get that new church built before the hard winter sets in, we’ll have to wait clear until spring,” Mrs. Townsend said.

Kinsey wasn’t hopeful. Already Miss Patterson had turned up her nose at three other plans for the church and had so infuriated several men in town that they wouldn’t even talk about the situation anymore.

“Looks like some folks need a refill,” Kinsey said, taking the coffee pot from the back of the cookstove. Mrs. Townsend smiled her thanks as Kinsey pushed into the dining room.

She made the rounds, topping off coffee cups, chatting with most all the diners and casually casting glances out the front window. Just as she’d answered the familiar how’s-that-boy-of-yours question yet another time, she caught sight of Jared coming out of the hotel down the street. Her hand quivered, sending hot coffee into the saucer. She apologized quickly wondering why her first thought of the man had been that he looked handsome this morning, rather than that he was trying to ruin her life.

Back in the kitchen, she said goodbye to Mrs. Townsend and rushed outside. From the back corner of the building she saw Jared walk by, waited another few seconds, then headed for the hotel.

Cecil Nelson was behind the desk, helping out his folks, who ran the place. The young man seemed to grow taller each time Kinsey saw him.

“Morning, Miss Kinsey,” he said, swiping his bangs out of his eyes.

She had no time for small talk. Glancing around quickly she leaned toward him. “Give me the key to Mr. Mason’s room.”

Cecil drew back a little. “Well, Miss Kinsey, you know I can’t do that.”

She pulled herself up a little. “Would you like me to tell Becky Cochran’s pa what I sawthe two of you doing out behind the White Dove last Wednesday night?”

His face flamed and his jaw dropped. “Well—well, shoot, we weren’t doing nothing but—”

“I saw what you were doing. And unless you’d like Becky’s papa to know also—”

“No, no you can’t do that.” He shook his head frantically. “He’d fly into me something awful—not to mention what Ma would do when she found out.”

“The key.” Kinsey held out her hand.

Cecil fidgeted for a moment then gave her the pass key for room number four. She headed up the stairs.

“I love Becky. I swear I do,” Cecil called. “You aren’t going to tell, are you, Miss Kinsey?”

She stopped and looked back. “If you really love her you ought to have more respect than to put her in that sort of position. And if I see the two of you together like that one more time, I’ll tell.”

Kinsey hurried up the stairs, Cecil’s thanks fading behind her, a little uneasy at passing moral judgement on the two young people she’d caught kissing, given what she was about to do.

The upstairs hallway was empty as she made her way to the front of the hotel and room number four. The best room in the place. Figured Jared would request it.

With a final quick glance around, Kinsey unlocked the door, slipped inside and closed it behind her. She dropped the key into her skirt pocket and fell back against the door, her heart suddenly thumping in her chest.

Good gracious, she was in a hotel room. A man’s hotel room. What had become of her?

She reconciled herself with a quick look around. Bed, bureau, writing desk, washstand, rocking chair, dressing screen in the corner. Just a hotel room.

Then her breathing quickened and a whispering sensation rippled through her.

Jared’s room.

He came full force into her mind as she stood surrounded by his personal belongings. The rumpled bed linens spilling into the floor, the pillows molded to the shape of his head, his clothing hanging on the pegs beside the door, his satchel and valise in the corner. The room smelled of him, rousing a memory she’d rather forget.

The alley. Her nose buried against his throat. His body pressed close. His hot breath. His lips covering hers, drawing her in until she rose up and—

“Good gracious…” Kinsey muttered in the silent room, once more admonishing herself for her behavior. Jared had the good grace to apologize for his actions that night. Maybe she should do the same.

Except she wasn’t sorry.

Kinsey gasped aloud. How could she have even thought such a thing?

She certainly didn’t have time to figure that out now. Jared was at the White Dove having breakfast, and she intended to be finished with her task here long before he scraped his plate clean.

Yet she couldn’t help but touch his shirt hanging from one of the pegs. Pale blue. Cotton. Big. Clark had been a big man, too. Kinsey smiled faintly at the memory.

At the end of the peg row, she saw Jared’s gun belt. Odd that he hadn’t taken it with him. Nearly every man in Crystal Springs—in Colorado—carried a gun.

Yet it didn’t really surprise her. She suspected that like Clark, Jared was more comfortable with a pencil or ink pen in his hand. All the Mason brothers, like their father, spent their days and nights designing and overseeing construction projects—factories, office buildings, warehouses. The bigger, the better, Clark had said with reasonable pride.

Kinsey touched the holster. The leather was stiff, new. She pulled the pistol out. It was a Colt.44 caliber revolver. The Peacemaker. Well-oiled and immaculate. She sniffed the barrel. Not fired recently, if ever.

She held the pistol in both hands, feeling its weight, its balance, then stretched out her arms and sighted through the window at the dotted i on the sign atop the building across the street. Kinsey knew about guns. Her mother, who’d lived through the ravage of the War Between the States, thought every woman should know how to shoot and had taught Kinsey well.

She remembered Jared’s awkward reaction in the kitchen of the boardinghouse yesterday when she’d mentioned that he hadn’t opened fire when the shooting began at the saloon. Something to keep in mind, she decided, as she slipped the Colt into the holster once more.

She turned to the satchel and valise on the floor and placed them on the writing desk. The valise held folded whites, and she had to force herself to dig past them to the bottom of the case, her cheeks warming as she fondled Jared’s long johns, socks and handkerchiefs. But she found what she expected to find. Stacks of money. Her stomach quivered at the sight, then hardened into a knot.

She knew why he’d brought so much cash with him, what he intended to do with it. Buying her off, obviously, had entered his mind before he left NewYork. It was a side of the man that didn’t really surprise her. Yet it still didn’t give her the information she’d come here to discover.

When she opened the satchel, her heart fell. Technical journals. Pencils. The odd drawing tools she’d seen Clark work with. There was a stack of papers filled to the very margins with pencil sketches. Excellent drawings of mountains, waterfalls, flowers, buildings, portraits of old women, young children. They chronicled Jared’s trip westward. She imagined him seated on the train, looking out the window capturing the passing scenery or sketching unsuspecting passengers. She’d seen in Clark the same compulsion to stay busy. None of the Masons, it seemed, could bear to sit still, their hands idle.

Kinsey put the drawings aside and pulled a large brown envelope from the satchel. A new wave of disappointment swept over her as she pulled out a stack of documents and skimmed them.

A letter from the midwife who’d delivered Sam, confirming his birth date and the names of his mother and father. A report from a Pinkerton detective tracing Kinsey’s flight from Lynchburg, Virginia to Crystal Springs, Colorado, and details on all stops in between. The last item in the packet dashed all hope for Kinsey. An unfinished letter, written in Clark’s own hand, advising the family of the impending arrival of his first child.

The man who’d come to her house yesterday claiming a right to Sam was, in fact, Jared Mason. Kinsey’s shoulders slumped at the realization.

Lying awake in bed last night it had occurred to her that she didn’t know whether the man who claimed to be Jared was, in fact, Clark’s brother, even though she’d seen the family resemblance with her own eyes. The man could have been a fraud, a distant family member, wanting to kidnap the boy and sell him back to the Mason family.

Or maybe she was just grasping at straws.

But there was no doubting Jared’s identity now. Kinsey shoved the documents back into the envelope and—

A key scraped in the lock. Kinsey whirled around, saw the doorknob shake.

There were only two keys to every room in the hotel. She had one of them in her skirt pocket. The other one belonged to—

Kinsey slapped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming as the door opened.

Chapter Five

Kinsey dropped to her hands and knees behind the dressing screen just as the door swung open. She pressed her lips together to keep from betraying her hiding place with a squeal of terror.

Footsteps thudded into the room, then a mumbled curse.

Jared’s voice. No doubt about it.

Kinsey crouched lower, trying to make herself as small as possible. The door closed. She was trapped.

Trapped inside a hotel room. Good gracious, what had she been thinking? Kinsey silently berated herself for her decision to come here. But he’d been on his way to breakfast—she’d seen him with her own eyes. Why would he come back?

Did he suspect her of doing exactly what she was doing? Had he planned this, set a trap for her, somehow expecting to find her here?

Maybe he hadn’t slept well. The thought flew through Kinsey’s mind like a welcomed cool breeze. Maybe he simply wanted to go back to bed—

What if he went back to bed? What if he took off his clothes?

Heat coursed through Kinsey like ripples through a pond.

What if he took off his clothes?

She leaned forward—just a little—and peeked around the corner of the screen. Jared stood at the bureau, muttering under his breath, fumbling with his gun and holster.

All his clothes on.

Kinsey’s cheeks flushed and she ducked back, silently willing him to leave the room. The wood floor was coarse and bit into her palms. Her knees hurt and her back had started to ache.

To say nothing of how hot the room had become.

Then, to her immense relief, she heard Jared’s footsteps. The door opened, then closed. The room fell silent.

Still, Kinsey waited. She didn’t dare move for fear of making a noise that might drawhim back into the room. She gritted her teeth and silently counted to one hundred—twice. Unable to bear another second on the floor, she got to her feet and heaved a sigh. She pressed her hand to her lower back as she listened at the door for a moment, then, hearing nothing, slipped into the hall.

Arms circled her waist from behind and hauled her back into the room before she could let out a scream. The door slammed shut and she was dropped crossways on the bed. She bounced on the soft mattress and looked up to find Jared Mason towering over her.

Kinsey launched herself off the bed but he caught her again. Their feet tangled and he fell down on the mattress with her.

Her heart pounded as Jared lay on top of her, pinning her to the bed, one of his legs between her knees. She took a swing at him but he caught her wrists and pressed them down, inches from her head. His weight, the heat of his body, soaked into her.

Another few seconds passed before Kinsey realized that he looked as startled as she. His face, hovering just above hers, was taut. His breath quickened. His body tensed.

Then a little smile quirked his lips. “I figured you’d do anything to keep Clark’s son, but I never counted on this.”

Her cheeks flamed, bringing on a wave of anger. “Oh! You think I came here to—! How dare you!”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s not why you’re here?”

“Of course not! Get off of me!” Kinsey struggled, trying to free her arms and kick her feet, but he held her easily.

“I’ll scream,” she threatened.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Scream all you want. We’ll get the sheriff up here and you can explain to him—and the whole town, who’ll hear about it before noon—why you’re in my room.”

Kinsey pressed her lips together, the gravity of her circumstances weighing more heavily than Jared atop her. She tried another tack.

“Would you please let me up?” she asked.

He held her, still, just to show her that he could, she suspected.

“You’re hurting me,” she told him.

Jared released her so quickly it startled her. For a man so big he moved with incredible speed, even grace, pushing himself off her and to his feet in an instant.

Kinsey sat up on the bed, yanked her skirt down and straightened her blouse, attempting to do so with a modicum of dignity and self-respect. But when she tried to get to her feet, Jared stepped close again, keeping her in place.

“What are you doing in my room?” He nodded to the dressing screen. “I saw you hiding back there.”

Heat filled her cheeks again, but she pushed up her chin and glared at him. “I came to find out exactly who you are.”

That seemed to surprised him. Obviously, as a member of the powerful Mason family, Jared wasn’t used to having his word questioned.

“I wasn’t about to let you anywhere near Sam without knowing if you were who you claimed to be,” Kinsey told him.

His surprise turned into something else—respect, maybe?—and he nodded slowly.

“Did you find out what you wanted to know?” he asked.

“Yes.” Kinsey sighed. “Unfortunately.”

“So you’re ready to talk about you and Sam coming back home with me,” he concluded.

The notion of living in the Mason’s New York home, the confines of the hotel room, and Jared’s great height towering over Kinsey caused everything in her to rebel.

She glared up at him. “Move out of my way.”

The words came out in her sternest “mommy voice,” the one that stopped Sam—and any other children with him—in his tracks. It had that effect on Jared, too, because he stepped back, more a reflex than anything.

Kinsey got to her feet and rubbed her wrists where he’d held her on the bed.

“I have to go to work,” she told him, her tone suggesting that she didn’t have leisurely hours to while away, as he did. “We’ll talk later.”

“When?”

“After dark when Sam goes to bed.”

He studied her for a moment, as if he wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Kinsey moved around him toward the door, but he blocked her path.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said softly.

Jared lifted her hand and pulled back the cuff of her sleeve to reveal her wrist. He did the same with the other wrist, holding them both in front of him.

He gazed at her and the moment seemed to stretch into forever. Jared leaned forward and brushed a kiss on one wrist, then the other. A firestorm ignited in Kinsey, threatening to consume her, but holding her in front of him.

Jared seemed unable to move either. He eased closer. So did Kinsey. She rose on her toes, until their faces hovered just inches apart and she felt his hot breath against her lips.

Then he pulled away. Kinsey’s cheeks warmed, from embarrassment this time. She darted out of the room.

* * *

How embarrassing.

Jared yanked the window of his hotel room open farther, hoping for a breeze to cool the place—and him. He stood there gazing down at Main Street, and rested his thumbs on the buckle of his gun belt.

Damn pistol. He’d forgotten it again this morning when he’d headed out for breakfast, and this time made it all the way to the restaurant before he realized it. He’d had to turn around and come back for the thing.

Embarrassing, all right. And hardly a good way to fit in on the streets of Crystal Springs. The sheriff had seen him leaving the hotel and had stopped on the street and eyed him hard. Under ordinary circumstances Jared wouldn’t have cared what the lawman thought of him, but Jared didn’t want to arouse suspicion—any more than he already had, that is. After the incident with Kinsey in the alley, he knew the sheriff was watching him.

Another plume of warmth rose in Jared at the memory of kissing Kinsey in the alley. It was a thought he couldn’t get out of his mind. And it didn’t help any that he’d found her hiding in his hotel room this morning.

When he’d come back for the gun and caught a reflection in the washstand mirror, he’d known right away that the bottom he saw in the air was Kinsey’s. No question about it. He’d made a study of her backside each time he saw her.

Or maybe it was her scent hanging in the room that had alerted him to her presence. Sweet and pure, fresh.

The smell of her still wound through the room, and through him, driving his desire for her a little higher. It was a feeling that troubled him. She had been, after all, his brother’s wife.

To distract himself, Jared shoved his belongings back into his satchel. He didn’t bother to count the money; in his heart he knew Kinsey wouldn’t have taken any of it. Clark wouldn’t have married that sort of woman.

Of course, Jared wouldn’t have picked Kinsey as the type Clark would have been interested in—let alone married to. Jared remembered the sort of women Clark had courted, and they were nothing like Kinsey. Quiet and demure were more to Clark’s taste. Those sorts of young women were the norm in the social circle of the Mason family.

Clark could have changed his mind after meeting her, of course. Kinsey was the sort of woman who’d make any man think twice, Jared decided.

He muttered a curse. She would make a man think twice because she was so damn hardheaded. Determined and strong. Capable and independent. A wife like her could drive a man crazy, he decided.

Kinsey’s lingering scent caught his nose again and Jared grumbled as he headed for the door. He had to get out of this room. He had to get out of this town, too. He had a big job waiting for him up in Maine.

And above all, he had to redeem himself for what he’d done to Clark.

Jared fought off the bitter memory and focused on getting control of this situation.

Kinsey had decreed that he couldn’t talk to her until tonight after Sam went to bed. Well, he’d just see about that.

The morning had started out badly, but the afternoon had been better, Kinsey decided as she left the White Dove Café, her handbag a little heavier from the extra coins inside.

Mrs. Townsend had stopped her on the street and asked if she could help out during the midday meal service. Dixie, who hadn’t showed up for work this morning still wasn’t to be found it seemed. Kinsey had gratefully agreed, glad to have the extra money.

She’d been unable to meet Sam after school, though. He would walk home with the Gleason boys and was perfectly fine; Lily or Nell were always at the boardinghouse when Sam got home. Kinsey just liked being there when school ended, chatting with Miss Peyton and the other mothers, then hearing about Sam’s day as the two of them walked home together.

Of course, there was no way Kinsey could tellSam—or anyone—about her day. Caught red-handed inside Jared Mason’s hotel room. Accused of offering favors to get him to leave town. Then nearly kissing him—again.

Kinsey cringed inwardly as she recalled the moment he’d touched her wrists, how the sight of his big hands had caused her heart to beat a little faster, how the feel of his lips caressing her skin had sent another wave of heat through her.

As it did now. Kinsey glanced around the crowded street, making sure no one was watching, and picked up her pace.

Jared had intended to kiss her again in the hotel room. She just knew it. They’d looked into each other’s eyes and Kinsey had done the unthinkable. She felt herself rising on her toes, ready to receive his kiss.

Good gracious, what was wrong with her?

Perhaps that was part of his plan, Kinsey suddenly thought. Maybe he had done that on purpose to keep her off balance, keep her from thinking about the reality of her situation.

Jared Mason intended to take Sam away from her. He was smart. He’d do anything to get his way.

As would she.

Kinsey hardened her heart and pushed aside the memory of those moments in Jared’s hotel room. Worry and anxiety claimed her, swift and strong. She walked faster, anxious to get home to Sam.

But her worry proved baseless when she arrived at the boardinghouse and found Sam in the Gleasons’ yard, playing with the brothers. He saw her and hurried over.

“Hi, Mama.”

“Hi, honey.” She knelt down and gave him a hug. “How was school today?”

“We drew pictures,” he said.

“I’ll bet Miss Peyton liked yours the best,” Kinsey said. Even at this young age, Sam showed signs of having his father’s gift for drawing.

“Did you walk home with the Gleason boys?” Kinsey asked.

“Huh-uh,” Sam said. “Uncle Jared walked me.”

Kinsey’s blood ran cold. “Who—who walked with you?”

“Uncle Jared.” Sam gestured toward the boardinghouse.

Kinsey’s heart pounded into her throat and hung there. She got to her feet.

“You run on and play for a while, Sam,” she said, urging him toward the Gleason brothers.

Anger raged in Kinsey as she crossed the yard. Jared Mason, a man of power and privilege, so used to having everything he wanted, so accustomed to always getting his way. He’d deliberately ignored her wishes. He’d invaded her home. Turned her world upside down.

And now he’d moved threateningly close to Sam.

Kinsey yanked open the back door and stormed into the kitchen. There he stood, in the entrance to her bedroom. Kinsey’s anger doubled.

“How dare you,” she demanded, her breath coming in short puffs.

Jared stood still as a stone fortress, expressionless, unmoved by her anger, her outrage.

She stepped closer. “Don’t you ever—ever—come around Sam again. Don’t you ever—”

A smile tugged at the corner of Jared’s lips. Smug. Pleased with himself.

Powerful.

Jared held up a leather-bound book.

Kinsey’s breath left her in a single huff. Her world tilted.

“I’m sure you recognize this. The Templeton family Bible.” He nodded toward her bedroom behind him. “I found it beside your bed.”

Kinsey dug deep, hoping to muster anger. “You have no right…”

Jared stepped closer and fanned the thin pages, stopping in the center of the Bible. “This is the section where the family records are kept. Births, marriages… deaths.”

Run. Run now. The thought flashed in Kinsey’s mind. Yet a chill claimed her, holding her in place.

Jared consulted the page, though it was obvious he didn’t need to. This was a show he reveled in.

“Beth Templeton married to Clark Mason,” he read. “Clark Mason, dead. Beth Templeton Mason, dead.”

Jared looked at Kinsey. “You want to explain to me how that’s possible? I mean, since you’re claiming to be Beth Templeton Mason, the woman I figured was using a different first name and her maiden name.”

He was toying with her. Enjoying the power he had over her. He already knew the answer so Kinsey didn’t respond.

“Funny thing,” Jared said, forcing a little laugh and shaking his head. “According to your family Bible, there really is a Kinsey Templeton. A whole separate person. Adopted by the Templeton family. Beth’s stepsister.”

The weight of the past bore down on Kinsey, crushing not only the moment, but her future as well.

“I—I can explain—”

“You were never married to Clark. You were only his sister-in-law. You didn’t give birth to Sam.” Jared’s expression turned hard and cold. “Or did you?”

Kinsey’s cheeks flamed and she found her anger now. “That’s a filthy thing to suggest. Clark and Beth were devoted to each other. Beth was Sam’s mother.”

“So you’ve got no blood tie to Sam at all, have you,” Jared said.

Kinsey gasped, realizing what he’d just maneuvered her into admitting.

Jared stepped closer. “In fact, you’ve got no family relation to Beth either, do you? You’re her stepsister. A stranger to the family. Somebody they took in.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Kinsey declared. “We were sisters—as close as any sisters could be. We—”

“You’re nothing but an outsider.” Jared moved in, his words cutting worse than a sword. “You’re nobody. You’ve got no standing in Sam’s life. You stole him.”

“I didn’t! Beth begged me to—”

“You stole him and you hid him. You kept him from his real family.”

Jared towered over her, battering her with his words, with his accusations…with the truth.

Kinsey blinked back tears. “You don’t understand! You weren’t there! You didn’t— ”

“I’m taking him.”

Kinsey gasped and shook her head frantically. “No!”

“I’ll get the sheriff if I have to,” Jared told her. He gave her one final hard look, and walked toward the door.

“No!”

Kinsey whipped the gun from his holster. Jared spun around. She pointed it square at his chest and pulled back the hammer.

“You’re not taking Sam anywhere.”

Surprise registered on Jared’s face. He shifted. His gaze bounced from her to the gun, around the room and back to Kinsey once more. She saw his mind working, berating himself for underestimating her, for letting her get the drop on him, for losing the upper hand.

“You’re not taking Sam anywhere,” Kinsey said again, hearing her cold, deliberate words. “You have no idea what I’ve been through. And you have no idea what I’ll do to keep Sam.”

“Look, I—”

“Leave town. Don’t come back,” she told him. “Don’t you ever—”

“Mama?”

The back door opened and Sam walked in.

Jared grabbed the gun from her hand.

A foolish move. It could have gone off, shot him or her, or some innocent bystander. But Jared wasn’t familiar with guns. Kinsey had realized that when she’d seen him fumbling with his holster in the hotel room and it suddenly made sense why he hadn’t joined in the shooting in front of the Wild Cat Saloon the night he’d kissed her in the alley.

That’s how she’d known she could get his gun from him just now.

But she let him have it. She wouldn’t struggle for it. Not with Sam in the room.

The boy looked back and forth between the two of them and alarm showed in his face.

“Mama?”

“It’s fine, honey. Everything’s fine.” Kinsey knelt in front of him and pulled him hard against her. Then she glanced up at Jared and put Sam away from her. “Run on outside again, sweetie. Play with the Gleason boys a while longer. Mama will come get you in a bit.”

Sam gave her a troubled look, but went outside anyway.

Kinsey rose from her feet and turned to Jared. He had the gun. He had the truth.

And now he’d have Sam.

“Make it easy on the boy,” Jared said. “Explain to him what’s happening. I’ll come by for him in the morning. Have him ready.”

Chapter Six

She could run.

The temptation, so deeply ingrained in Kinsey, sprang to her mind the instant Jared had left the kitchen of the boardinghouse. She’d watched from the back porch as he paused for a moment to look at Sam playing with her neighbor’s boys, then moved along. She’d fought the urge to rush into the bedroom, pack their things and head out.

Two things stopped her. One: the stage wouldn’t be through town for a few more days, the train not until the end of the week. She wouldn’t get very far on foot, or even on horseback, should she turn loose of her carefully hoarded money and buy one. Asking someone in town to hide her was unthinkable, given the explanations such a request would require.

Two: Kinsey didn’t want to leave town.

Realizing she and Sam were safe until the following morning when Jared had said he’d return, Kinsey had gone about her chores at the boardinghouse as usual, helping Nell and Lily with supper preparations. Somewhere between peeling the potatoes and serving the apple pie, Kinsey had decided that she didn’t want to be forced out of Crystal Springs. She didn’t want to be on the run again, searching for a new home, making new friends, always looking over her shoulder. She liked it here. She liked her home, her job, Sam’s teacher, his friends, the townsfolk.

Washing up the supper dishes, Kinsey had decided to stay—and keep Sam with her, of course. Now, after tucking him into bed and slipping on her bonnet and wrap, she left the boardinghouse armed with nothing more than a plan.

Yet her plans had kept her and Sam safe for five years, had brought her to this comfortable town, had held the Mason family at bay.

It surprised her a bit that Jared hadn’t known who she was or that the private detective hadn’t discovered it. Apparently, in Clark’s many letters to his family he’d never mentioned her. But why would he? Business, the project he was overseeing, consumed most of his thoughts, as it would any man.

Now she had a plan that would insure that she kept Sam. A plan, Kinsey believed, that Jared Mason, of all people, would understand.

Jared understood power. She’d seen it in him when she’d been in his hotel room. The way he held her arms, the way he blocked her exit from the room. Then at the boardinghouse, the gleam in his eye when he realized that he’d discovered she wasn’t Sam’s mother and that he’d gotten his way, that he’d won.

So if power was what Jared Mason understood, then power was what she’d show him.

Sheriff Isaac Vaughn stood on the little porch in front of the jailhouse staring down Main Street toward the Wild Cat Saloon. It was dark now and the streets were nearly deserted.

Isaac turned to her as she approached. In the dim light she saw the gentle shift in his expression, concern, worry that she was on the streets alone.

Isaac was a big man. Tall, solid. Tough, too. He had to be, given his job as sheriff. Yet Kinsey had never experienced that side of him. To her, Isaac was more an older brother. She’d gotten to know him better since Lily had come to work at the boardinghouse.

“Evening, Mrs. Templeton,” Isaac said, tipping his hat respectfully.

“Good evening, Sheriff,” she answered, standing next to him. “I know it’s late for me to be out alone, but something’s bothering me that I want to discuss with you.”

Isaac shifted. His expression hardened, as if preparing himself for bad news which, as sheriff, he often heard.

“It’s about you and Lily,” Kinsey said.

He seemed to wither slightly, the weight of the troubles with his wife bearing down on him for so long now it seemed difficult for him to stand up under the burden any longer.

Exactly what had driven Lily from the home she shared with Isaac during their three-year marriage had been speculated about by most everyone in Crystal Springs. Everyone had an opinion—it had been the most talked-about incident in town, until the church burned down. It was common knowledge what the two of them had been through, of course, and, collectively, the town’s heart had gone out to them.

Kinsey knew the whole truth, of course. She and Lily had grown close from all the hours they’d spent cooking and cleaning at the boardinghouse, and Lily had confided in her. Kinsey certainly wouldn’t betray Lily’s confidence by tattling to anyone and adding to the gossip that circulated through town about the couple.

“I told Lily when she came to the boardinghouse that I wouldn’t take sides between the two of you,” Kinsey said. “You’ll recall I told you the same.”

Cautiously, Isaac nodded.

“I haven’t said much, one way or the other, to either of you,” Kinsey pointed out. “I’ve listened to Lily’s side of things. Heard her out. Tried to comfort her, tried to be a friend.”

“You’ve been a good friend,” he said, “to both of us.”

Kinsey drewa breath and straightened her shoulders.

“I think that was a mistake on my part,” she told him.

“You do?”

“Yes. The truth is, I never agreed with Lily’s leaving you, moving out of your home, taking a job and living in Nell’s boardinghouse,” Kinsey said, then added softly, “Regardless of the circumstances.”

Isaac winced and glanced away.

“I intend to talk to her, try and convince her to meet with you, find a way for you two to put your lives back together and get over…what happened,” Kinsey said. “I wanted you to know that, Isaac.”

He nodded. “I appreciate that.”

“I should have done it sooner,” Kinsey admitted.

It was true. She’d never agreed with Lily’s decision but had held her tongue, thinking it was better to support her friend. She’d always intended to talk to Lily, make her feelings known.

Only now she had a compelling—no, selfish, she silently admitted—reason to do so.

A long silence stretched between them as Kinsey and the sheriff stood outside the jailhouse. Somewhere a dog barked. A pair of horses plodded down the street and their riders disappeared inside the Wild Cat. Lights burned in the hotel windows down the block and above the stores on Main Street.

Kinsey drew in another breath, summoning her courage.

“That new man in town,” she said, trying to sound casual. “That Mr. Mason staying at the hotel?”

Isaac’s shoulders straightened and his chest expanded. “Did he do something, Kinsey?”

The sheriff’s tone suggested he almost wished Jared had done something. As if Isaac would enjoy nothing more than taking out his pent-up hostility over his wife’s desertion on someone—anyone.

“I was just thinking,” Kinsey said, fighting the urge to twist her fingers together from the outrageous lie she was about to tell, “that Mr. Mason reminded me of that bank robber from Cold Creek whose picture was on the Wanted poster outside your office about a month ago. Did…did you happen to notice a resemblance?”

Isaac eyed her sharply and one eyebrow went up. “I might have.”

“I noticed the poster is gone now,” Kinsey said, waving to the spot behind her where the Wanted posters always hung. “I suppose that means the robber was caught. But, well, I was wondering if the sheriff in Cold Creek is certain he got the right man?”

Isaac stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I could send a telegram, find out for sure.”

“That would be prudent,” Kinsey agreed. “And, I suppose, you might be concerned that, if the robber really is Mr. Mason, that he might…commit another crime.”

Isaac nodded again. “Might be better if I got Mason off the streets.”

“The townsfolk would surely feel safer that way,” Kinsey said. “I know I’d feel safer.”

“I could lock him up.”

“Just until you found out for sure if he’s the robber,” Kinsey said. “Say, until Friday? That’s the day the train comes through. You could take him to the depot, make sure he leaves town—for the safety of the citizens, of course.”

“I could do that,” Isaac declared, his tone indicating that he would enjoy it, too.

“But I wouldn’t want him to get hurt,” Kinsey said quickly. “I know that accidents can happen—anywhere.”

“I’ll make sure Mason doesn’t have any accidents,” Isaac promised.

“Good.” Kinsey paused.

“And he’ll be comfortable.”

“Well, not too comfortable.”

“I’ll take care of the prisoner, don’t you worry.”

“And I’m going to talk to Lily tonight,” Kinsey promised.

They exchanged a look, sealing their unholy bargain. Both of them were desperate. Isaac, to get his wife back, and Kinsey to get Jared Mason out of her life. People pushed into a corner would do anything, and Kinsey and Isaac were no exception, given the high stakes.

Kinsey hurried toward the boardinghouse. She glanced back to see Sheriff Vaughn heading toward the hotel.

For an instant, she almost called him back. What had her life become? What sort of person had she turned into? Arranging to have a man—even Jared Mason—locked up in jail to suit her own needs?

Kinsey’s stomach ached with guilt. She didn’t regret promising to intervene with Lily on the sheriff’s behalf. She truly felt itwas the right thing to do. But as for Jared…

The ache in Kinsey’s stomach rose to grip her heart. Sam. A helpless little boy who’d already lost both of his parents. The tearful vow she’d made to her stepsister as she lay dying.

The ugly truth about the Mason family.

Kinsey drew in a fresh breath. Four days in jail wouldn’t do Jared Mason any real harm. He’d have a roof over his head, three meals a day. He wouldn’t be mistreated. He’d be loaded onto the train and sent packing.

And it would get him out of Kinsey’s life. For a while. Perhaps forever.

Sam would be safe. Beth’s dying wish would be respected. Kinsey would have the kind of life she’d wanted since she was a child.

Her heart ached again, this time in an old, familiar way. Oh, to think that her dearest dream might one day come true…

Kinsey pushed away the thought. She headed back to the boardinghouse.

A night for celebration. No doubt about it.

Jared reared back in his chair and picked up his beer—his third, so far—from the table in front of him. Around him, the dozen or so other patrons of the Wild Cat Saloon drank at the bar, told stories, or played cards. Everyone in a jovial mood.

And none more so than Jared. He tipped up his beer, thoroughly pleased with himself. His gut glowed with the success he’d pulled off today.

He’d gotten Clark’s boy back.

Winning a large contract, edging out the competition for a big job, convincing a supplier to meet the terms Jared dictated, none of his many achievements in the business world even came close to the feeling of accomplishment he felt tonight.

Jared couldn’t believe his good luck. After walking Clark’s son home from school, he’d gone into the boardinghouse intending to find Kinsey and talk to her. He’d found something much more important. The family Bible that had revealed the truth of her past.

He’d been stunned. Damn Pinkerton detective had gotten a key element of his search wrong—dead wrong. No information on a stepsister, on a real Kinsey Templeton in his report. No mention of her in Clark’s letters to any of the family, either.

But Jared had gotten his way, despite the mistake, and that’s all that mattered.

He took another long sip from the foamy beer glass, and once again considered sending a telegram to his family back in New York with the good news that Clark’s son had been found. But Jared disregarded the idea. Better to keep the situation to himself, especially here in Crystal Springs. There was plenty of time for sharing the good news after he and the child were on the train home.

And the two of them would be homeward bound tomorrow. Jared’s gut ached a little as he sipped his beer. Tomorrow, he’d begin to make up for what he’d done, in memory of Clark.

Bright and early, he intended to pick up the boy and head east in a wagon he’d rent from the livery stable. From Cold Creek, he’d take the stage, then meet up with the train at the closest depot.

He didn’t worry that Kinsey would run off with the boy again. Jared had her dead to rights. With no blood claim on the child, and lacking legal authority, there was no way she could justify keeping the boy any longer. Besides, the train and stagecoach were the only way out of Crystal Springs. He couldn’t imagine her running off on foot, dragging the boy and her belongings with her. Jared was reasonably sure she didn’t have the money to buy a horse and wagon either.

So he was set. A little smile pulled at Jared’s lips. He’d be back in New York in plenty of time to get up to Maine, start the new job that awaited him. The project was a big one and Jared was anxious to get it started.

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