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“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 Cafе 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 Cafе.
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.
