With daylight beaming into the sheriff’s office, Zane pulled out his pocket watch. It was exactly 8:30 a.m. He had one-and-a-half hours before Rachel would arrive to collect her money and allow him to escort her to the bank. Plenty of time to complete one important errand.
A few minutes later, he opened the door to the Recording Office. Three people looked up from their work as he entered. The young clerk in front who was busy helping an older couple was obviously the man from Castle Rock, for the other clerk in the far back was a young, attractive woman, Miss Walsh, most likely. Still farther back, in his own glassed-in office, was the Recording Officer, Noah Livingstone.
The woman came forward. “May I help you?”
“I need some information on the printer down in Castle Rock.”
“What exactly do you need?”
As Zane answered her, the Recording Officer walked up beside her. Miss Walsh shot Mr. Livingstone a fast look with shining eyes. Zane felt his brows furrow. Was there a romance between them? Although Livingstone was nothing other than professional as he told Zane the name of the business, allowing Miss Walsh to retrieve one of the rolled maps, it was obvious the young woman admired him.
Just as Zane was concluding that the affection wasn’t reciprocated, he caught the one single, furtive look Livingstone offered Miss Walsh as she unrolled a map.
A pair of juvenile screams drew everyone’s attention to the window. Zane could see a pair of young boys race past. He’d seen them when he was walking over, no doubt playing before needing to go to school. Whoever their family was, they had their hands full.
When he turned back to the maps, he caught Livingstone’s scowl and Miss Walsh’s reddening face.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered to Zane.
“It’s all right,” he replied. “It’s hardly your fault. They’re just boys. I wonder—”
Barely in time, he cut off his words, realizing that Alex might know the children. Miss Walsh frowned at him. He clamped shut his mouth.
“What do you wonder?” she asked.
Zane cleared his throat. “It’s nothing.”
“You’re probably wondering why they aren’t heading over to school. They’ll wait until the last minute when Miss Thompson rings the bell.” Miss Walsh smiled ruefully. “They are a handful for my mother, especially since I work, and she’s been unwell. My father has been in Denver on business all week, which doesn’t help.”
She tossed a fast look up at the clock. “They’ll be heading to school shortly.”
When she resumed her directions, Zane drew in a relieved breath. He had to be more careful. It was bad enough that some astute people could tell he wasn’t Alex, but to ask a question that his twin could already know the answer to was foolish and dangerous. The more people who knew he wasn’t Alex, the bigger the risk that they’d complain, which would force the mayor to action. This morning, he had received the long-awaited order to report to the mayor. That meeting would happen later today. No doubt Mayor Wilson would believe the other mayor and send him packing.
That would make two towns washing their hands of him in one week. That would have to be one for the record book. Armed with the information he needed, and glad to be outside, Zane donned his Stetson and pulled it low to block out the early sunshine. He didn’t have time this morning to travel down to Castle Rock to find the printer, but the first chance he had, he would. The train, the one that had brought him here mere days ago, would be arriving soon. It would carry on to the next stop on the line, Castle Rock. Zane noted the time.
His deputy had reported that Alex had been heading down to Castle Rock when he’d disappeared. What for? Rachel had wanted to follow the lead the postcard offered and Zane actually believed she could. Did that mean he fully believed in her innocence? And that her leads might come to fruition?
He clamped down on his jaw as he returned to the sheriff’s office, refusing to answer it. It could lead him to wanting to stick around after Alex was found.
* * *
At exactly ten, Rachel opened the sheriff’s office door and stepped inside. She’d expected Zane to be there and wasn’t disappointed.
In fact, as she’d spied him through the window, her heart had taken an uncharacteristic leap.
Once inside, she noted that he was dressed respectably, in a dark but handsome suit, the badge of office clipped on his breast pocket. She’d seen Alex wear the same suit and realized that Zane was wisely wearing his brother’s clothes. It appeared that perhaps Zane was a little broader in the shoulders, for the suit fit more snugly.
He glanced up when she shut the door. Was that a genuine smile on his face or merely a screen to hide something else? Whatever it was, it didn’t quite reach his wary eyes. She smoothed her basic dark green outfit, oddly thankful that she’d taken pains with her appearance.
And last night she had used rose-scented cream borrowed from her mother to help heal her hands. For the briefest moment, Rachel shut her eyes. What on earth was it about this man that made her so insecure?
Forcing away doubt, she smiled, far more broadly than his wary expression merited. “Good morning.”
Zane nodded as he stood. “Good morning. Are you ready to go sleuthing?”
“The bank first, please. I don’t care to be toting money around while investigating a felony.”
“A wise decision.” He walked to the safe and removed the carpetbag. “You don’t mind if I carry it?”
“Of course not.”
He locked up the office and after a few minutes of silent walking, they reached the bank. The beefy security guard, reputed to have been a Pinkerton detective at one time, opened the door for them and greeted Rachel politely. Her father had hired him years ago, and he was as much an institution as the elderly teller, Mr. Claymore.
Claymore carefully counted the money Zane set on his counter, and took Rachel’s bankbook to update it. Rachel knew him to be professional in every way, but she could tell the man was relieved to have the money returned. Saturday evening, when she’d withdrawn it, the manager had stopped by Claymore’s home and roused the man from his comfortable parlor chair to assist him.
If truth be told, she, too, was glad the money was back where it was safest. As Claymore took the bills to the safe, Zane gently extricated Rachel’s bankbook from her hands.
She allowed him. They were the only clientele in the bank at the time, so all was quiet.
“Satisfied?” Rachel asked with arched brows.
“Quite. I was waiting to see how the money would be handled.” He handed back the small book.
“And you can see it was from my own funds.”
“I should have held off on that assumption until I had it verified.” After they’d stepped outside, he added, “And I was rude to simply take your private bankbook from your possession without asking permission first. Please accept my apologies.”
Rachel laid a hand over her heart. “As I live and breathe, I didn’t think I’d hear that from you.”
He donned his Stetson, leaning closer to her. “Just as I didn’t think I would see the interior of your bankbook.”
“I would have shown it to you willingly if you’d insisted.” She smiled wanly. “Don’t look so surprised. I actually understand your mistrust in me.”
She couldn’t believe she’d said that. Yes, she did understand him. She also understood that he had only enough fight in him to find Alex.
An ache rolled through her, and she resisted the urge to reach out to grip his arm, to give him some of her own determination. To share in the anguish he must feel.
Zane stepped away. “Don’t, Rachel.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t sympathize with me. I don’t want it and I don’t deserve it.”
“Why not?”
He scowled. “Because I’m not as strong as Alex. Nor can I do anything to redeem myself.”
“You think you need to pay for past sins but also think the cost is too high.”
The look he shot Rachel cut her to the core. Wary, watchful, haunted almost, it was like nothing she’d seen on him before. “Don’t tell me God has already forgiven me. I know that, but there are some things He can’t fix, because they are the consequences of my sins.”
“Zane—”
“And don’t go thinking I’m worthy of saving like your soiled doves, either.”
She could feel her heart pound. Her emotions concerning this man had bumped up and down like one of those bucking bulls she’d seen when the town had hosted a rodeo. Did she think she could barrel into his life and make it all better? Was that the only reason she found herself thinking so much of Zane?
She’d wanted to make things better for the soiled doves, but she hadn’t been able to. And when she’d pushed to have Alex find Rosa, he’d disappeared, as well. Tears stung her eyes. No. Zane was right to push her away. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
She couldn’t help it. She was sorry that he felt he was unredeemable, and she felt sorry for herself that she couldn’t help him. They were a fine pair.
Still, a part of her wanted to help, needed to help. But there could be nothing more between her and Zane, not as long as her ministry defined her life, as it always would.
That made her heart ache.
By now, as they crossed town, they’d reached the bandstand. A skiff of snow lay hidden in its shadow, refusing to be melted away by any weak winter sunshine. Zane stopped her at the closest corner, one where wayward sagebrush had been allowed to grow. It was the backside of the bandstand, and since Proud Bend didn’t even have a band yet, no one had bothered to trim back the bush. She felt its branches brush her skirt and jacket as a breeze rose. When a few grains of snow stung her cheeks, Rachel said, “Zane, let me help you.”
“It won’t work.”
Frustration flared in her. Why on earth was she so interested in helping this difficult man? “You won’t let me try. You just want to run away to lick your wounds.” She grabbed his arms, ignoring the etiquette of not touching a man. Forget that. Zane needed to know he was important, too.
“So what if I want to hide away? Am I not allowed to do that?”
“No! It’s not right. You say you don’t have the strength to do anything but find Alex. Well, fine, then, I’ll accept that. I feel that way, too, sometimes. But think of Alex. He writes you often, you said. Would you say his opinions are worthless?”
“No.”
“He thinks you’re worth fighting for, right? He wouldn’t want you to run away from your life.”
“My life right now is finding him. That’s the only thing that matters.”
Her voice dropped. “You matter, too.” She swallowed. “To me, too.”
Was it inappropriate to say that? Rachel was hardly one to follow convention and good deportment, but sudden shyness washed over her.
Too late. You’ve said it. But it only means that you like to fix things. It means nothing more. It certainly doesn’t mean you want him to stay.
Zane stood, his arms folded across his chest and his expression as stiff as his posture. He looked as tough a lawman as there could ever be. “You care only because I am your best chance to find Rosa and get to the bottom of this investigation. You feel guilty for all that has happened—to Bea, to Liza, to Daniel, to Alex, even. I could tell you to stop feeling guilty about them, just as you want to tell me to stop feeling guilty for my misspent youth and for the situation in Canaan. But let’s not fool ourselves. Neither of us is going to listen to the other.”
How could she answer that truth?
Abruptly, Zane unfolded his arms and took her hands to draw them close to his chest. She wore her best kid-leather gloves, but they were thin and she felt his warmth seep through to her fingers. “We’re a fine pair, aren’t we? Thrown together to find my brother and hopefully solve an assault, a kidnapping and a murder.”
“How are they all connected? Besides through me.”
“I don’t know. I’m going on instinct here.” He leaned closer. “But listen to me, Rachel. You have a good heart under that boldness. Don’t waste it on me.”
“And under your abrasiveness, you don’t really want to run away. I believe you can fight for your innocence. You just think you shouldn’t because it’s some ridiculous payment for the sins in your past. Maybe you’re afraid you won’t win.”
“I won’t.”
“It’s not about winning or losing. It’s about justice being served. We don’t always win. Oh, believe me, I know that! But we keep up the good fight and trust in the Lord. He will guide us.”
Zane’s expression clouded. “Pastor Wyseman said something similar.”
She felt a smile twitch her lips. “Then it must be true.”
He searched her face, his gaze finally settling on her lips. Rachel’s heart leaped. She really shouldn’t be standing so close to him, not in broad daylight beside the bandstand for all to see, not if she didn’t want her heart to wander so far from the safety of her ministry, where disappointment was tempered by new hope each day.
But she couldn’t stop herself. She leaned closer.