Annoyed. Angered. Alarmed. Conner Kincaid sat behind the battered desk that had belonged to Verl Jenison, the previous sheriff of Sweetwater, and reviewed the shifting state of his emotions. Never had his temper been so sorely tested and he eyed the cause of it. Tall and willow slender, Miss Belinda Jarvis paced the small confines of his office.
He had tagged her as Eastern born and bred without hearing her speak a word. From the feathered concoction that graced her upswept blond hair to the tips of her high-buttoned shoes to the delicate lace-trimmed collar peering above her tobacco brown short caped jacket and the finely woven plaid draping her bustle, she was every attractive inch a wealthy, fashionable lady.
If it weren’t for the fact that she posed a threat to his family, Conner would have explored the heated spark that flared to life the moment she barged into his office demanding his immediate attention.
Even Seely Morehouse, sleeping off his latest binge in the single jail cell, had rubbed red-rimmed eyes and muttered about angels and devils coming to get him when he saw her.
But there wasn’t anything angelic about this woman. As if his thought had been spoken, she suddenly stopped pacing and looked at him.
Conner met her direct gaze with his own cool stare, giving away nothing of his inner turmoil.
Taken individually, her features were not exceptional. The brows and lashes framing her large brown eyes were mink dark, in decided contrast to her blond hair. Her nose was straight and her chin a shade on the pointy side. His gaze lingered on the generous shape of her mouth. The deep rose color of her lips lent her skin a creamy tint like a blazing star flower. It was the kind of mouth a man might speculate about.
Conner was man enough to look his fill and reach his own conclusions.
He was intrigued by the gleam of intelligence he saw in her eyes as she continued to stare at him. Other men might call them bluestockings, but he had always found independent-thinking women attractive. And this one was no exception.
Belinda Jarvis rarely became unsettled by a man’s staring. But there was something about this man that made her struggle to retain her accustomed poise.
“Well, Sheriff?” she asked to break the uncomfortable silence. “You have had time to read my brother’s last letter and make a decision.” She pointed at the paper lying on the desk in front of him. “You did read it? I assume you can read.”
“Yes, ma’am. I get by.”
She ignored the decided edge of sarcasm. “That saves me time searching for someone you trust to read it to you.”
There was something dark and dangerous about the sheriff’s face. Belinda was annoyed that she noticed that his jaw appeared squared from granite. His smile was not quite a decent one, and combined with the blatant appraisal in his cool gray eyes, it was too much. She lowered her gaze by cowardly inches—throat, shoulder, chest…then chided herself for such foolish behavior. She had to remember that all she needed was for this man to do his job.
“I did not mean to insult you, Sheriff.”
Like hell you didn’t, lady. Conner tilted back in his chair so that it balanced on its rear legs. “None taken, ma’am.”
Belinda wanted to wipe the cocky grin from his lips, but she merely inclined her head in acknowledgment.
“Now, shall we get back to business? The letter clearly states that should anything happen to my brother and his wife, I am named guardian of their son. All I require of you, Sheriff, is your cooperation in claiming my nephew.”
Conner eased his chair forward. His hands gripped the edge of his desk. “There is no doubt in your mind that your brother and his wife are dead?”
“None.” Once more Belinda struggled to maintain an air of calm control. She knew she sounded cold and callous. “My brother and I were not close. He refused the place waiting for him in our family’s business and in society.”
She paused, unwilling to explain that the family had been against his choice of wife until he confessed that she carried his child. But once married, Robert had refused to forgive the family for the cruel things they had said about the woman he loved.
“What makes you think that the child is still alive? This is rough country, ma’am. If you’re so sure his parents are dead—”
“Sheriff, please,” she interrupted. “I’ve already told you. I’m sure. You will simply have to accept my word. I am not in the habit of having it questioned.”
“That so?” His tone was polite, but the slightest blur of a frown drew the slash of his eyebrows together.
“Yes, indeed.” Like a slippery length of fine silk, Belinda felt her grasp on both her poise and patience begin to slip.
The ruggedly handsome sheriff was younger than she had been led to believe, and, unlike most men she came into contact with, had not fallen all over himself trying to accommodate her.
She was not vain about her appearance, but she had realized at a young age that she had been blessed with an attractive face and figure. If men wished to be blinded by a woman’s looks, she had learned not to argue with them. What she had learned was to turn their fawning to her advantage and use her intelligence, free from any male interference.
Her family wealth usually ensured cooperation whenever she demanded it. But this lawman, watching and appraising her every word and move, appeared immune.
“You still harbor doubts,” she accused. “Will it satisfy you that I am telling the truth, if I repeat my story?”
“Sure would help me keep things clear.” Conner had her where he wanted her: angry and defensive. “Go on.”
Her hands clenched and she looked away from him. “The Pinkerton National Detective Agency has investigated this matter at my request. Allan Pinkerton was a personal friend of my father. My family aided him when he first established his agency in Chicago. Even you must agree they are the best that money can buy.”
“Never had any call to buy myself some fancy detective, ma’am. I’ll just take your word for that.”
“By all means, do so,” she snapped, facing him. The irritating clodhopper! She was not going to lose her temper. She was not going to allow him to provoke her. Taking a deep breath, then releasing it, Belinda continued.
“Their report, made after months of investigation by several of their best detectives, concludes that my brother and his family never reached their destination in California. They did confirm that my brother traveled with another family. Neither family left the Arizona Territory.”
“And did your fancy detective agency bother to inform you that the territory is a mighty big place, Miss Jarvis? They could be anywhere.”
“No. My coming here to Sweetwater was not a random choice, Sheriff. The last time my brother stopped to buy supplies was in Apache Junction.”
Conner’s gut tightened at the mention of the town that linked his brother to her story. He wanted to usher her out of his office, then personally escort her out of town. “That’s a way north of here. Men go off all the time. Some catch gold fever and are never heard from again. ’Pache could’ve gotten them. Flash floods, rock slides, there are a hundred ways for men to die out here.”
“I am aware of all that.” Calm. Just be calm with this dense, backwoods excuse for the law. “When I was informed of where my brother was last seen, I was told about a widow who had recently left the area in the company of an outlaw and two young boys that were not hers. There is no doubt in my mind that these people have my nephew. But I had to come West to discover the truth for myself.
“The widow’s ranch was deserted, but she had returned twice and both times was seen leaving with loaded wagons. The last news I had claims that this widow lives on the Kincaid ranch. Nothing will deter me from following that lead.”
“If you’re so all-fired sure that you’re right, why don’t you just ride out there and claim your lost nephew?”
“Are you deliberately trying to provoke me, Sheriff?”
“I’m trying to get at the truth.”
“You have a strange way of doing so. I cannot risk having the boy hidden away from me. You do not understand what is at stake.”
“Guess not. But I’m not sure your concern is for the boy’s welfare at all.”
“You know nothing about me or my feelings. Do not presume to pass judgment on me. I would not have traipsed about this hostile country if I did not care about the boy. For all I know they could be teaching him to steal. My brother never intended that his child be raised by an outlaw. Even a man like you must admit the very idea is enough to give one nightmares.”
Conner glanced to the wall where yellowed Wanted posters covered the rough planks. Faded images of the James brothers, the Youngers, Charley Pitts and Ty Hardin stared back at him. The names and the varying amounts of monies offered for the men, dead or alive, only served to remind him that Belinda Jarvis believed that his brother Logan really was the outlaw he had been forced to play to bring a band of robbers to justice.
“Sheriff, your continued inattention is annoying. I wonder if you understand the very serious nature of my request for your help. Am I wasting my time attempting to elicit it?”
His gaze returned to her. She refused to allow that cool, hard stare to intimidate her. Her pride would not allow a small-town lawman to succeed where wealthy, powerful men had tried and failed.
She stepped closer to the desk. “I demand to know if you are going to help me. You cannot doubt the evidence I have presented. You are sworn to uphold the law. If these people have my nephew in their clutches, I want them arrested and my brother’s child returned to me. For all I know, they may have had something to do with my brother’s death.”
It was with a great deal of annoyance that Belinda realized she leaned over the desk. Straightening, she felt the pool of sweat gathered between her breasts. Beneath her hat, her hair felt damp against her head. With gloved hands, she patted her temples. She did not want him to see how upset she was. Men took advantage of women when they were vulnerable.
Fanning herself with one hand, she resumed her pacing. The hot, sultry air stirred as she walked back and forth in the small office.
Through the open door, she glimpsed the dusty street. A longing for the lakeside breezes of her home swept over her. She paused, thinking she had been wrong to come here on her own. Perhaps she should have allowed the detectives to handle this. But the boy had suffered enough alone. She could not allow strangers to fetch him home where he belonged.
Conner watched her. He was not a man who deliberately provoked anyone’s temper. At least he hadn’t been until this woman snapped accusations and demands at him like the rapid fire of a repeating rifle.
Her insistence that he arrest his brother slammed into him with a burning sensation that notched his temper higher.
The tap-tap of her high heels hitting the wood floor revealed her agitated state. He caught every one of the glaring looks she shot at him.
“I’m giving the matter a great deal of thought.”
“Thought? What is there to think about?” Belinda stood in the middle of the room. Her eyes filled with disbelief. “Either you believe me or you don’t!”
“No need to yell at me. I hear you just fine. And don’t get your bustle in a coil, Miss Jarvis. Take a seat, even if the accommodations aren’t what you’re accustomed to. All that prancing about is distracting.”
“Prancing?”
“Pacing. Prancing. All the same.”
Conner followed her gaze to the rickety slat-back chair in front of his desk. He hadn’t gotten around to fixing up his office and had refused the Kincaid ladies’ offers of help to do it. He didn’t even have his new name sign hung outside the doorway. A fact that annoyed his mother since she had had one made for him. Most of the past two months had been spent visiting the outlying ranches to thank the families for their support in the election and to reassure them that he would see an end to the rustling.
“Stop daydreaming, Sheriff. I would never be dismissed like this in Chicago. My family name and wealth would ensure—”
“Perhaps your eyesight’s poor. This isn’t Chicago,” Conner reminded her. He could no more stop his grin than he could stop breathing. Belinda had color in her cheeks. Deep rose-red flags that signaled her anger.
“I am well aware of that fact, Sheriff.”
“Good. That was my sole intent. As you keep reminding me that I’m the only law around here, we’ll do things my way.”
“Slow as molasses on a winter morning.”
“Most women don’t complain about it. There’s a heap of pleasure to be found that way.” Conner was surprised to see the deepening color in her cheeks. She wasn’t a girl fresh from the schoolroom, or in her case, some fancy boarding school. His gaze drifted down to the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. “No, ma’am, slow ain’t reason to complain.”
He was goading her and Belinda stopped herself from answering with a retort that would have the man sputtering. The lace trimming her high-necked shirtwaist constricted her throat. She raised her gloved hand to hide her need to swallow several times. She refused to think about him and his slow idea of pleasure. Bragging, that’s all it was. He was staring down at the letter, clearly ignoring her, and that smarted.
Conner heard her furious mutterings as she paced to the doorway and stood there with her back toward him. He was torn. The past two months had brought him contentment. His younger brothers were running the ranch and overseeing the mining operations. He was free to follow his dream. A dream to see the territory safe for families to settle.
As a Kincaid, Conner wanted to send this woman packing.
As the sheriff, he had no choice but to consider her request that he help find her nephew.
It tempted him to see the Eastern society darling sent on a wild-hog chase through the territory.
The fact that such a thought was present forced him to admit how torn his loyalties were. And how close he was to losing his infamous temper. It didn’t help that he suspected the lady packed the devil’s own temper, too.
Without looking at him, Belinda prodded him again for his decision.
“I’m not ready to make one. You’ll just have to wait.”
Her shoulders drooped as if the starch dissolved from her, and Conner almost felt sorry for his harsh tone. In moments, she presented a rigid back to him again. He had to admire her strength.
But if what she claimed was true, she would destroy his brother Logan’s happiness. Conner didn’t want to think what it would do to Jessie. If the corset-cinched Miss Jarvis had her way, one of the boys that Logan and his wife Jessie intended to adopt would never bear the Kincaid name.
The trouble was, the letter she had given to him only made mention of a son, but didn’t name the boy.
He struggled to recall if anyone had mentioned the name Jarvis. He didn’t remember hearing it. Kenny, at thirteen, was mature beyond his years. If the boy had schemed to keep something hidden, then hidden it remained. And little Marty…he followed Kenny’s lead like an adoring puppy. It made no sense that he would have lied about who he was. She had to be wrong. Kenny claimed they were cousins. Marty never denied it.
Belinda Jarvis, with her fancy Chicago detective’s investigation, was looking for one boy, not two.
The loose ends nagged at him. They had all taken Kenny’s word that there were no family members for them to go back to. What if he had lied?
He couldn’t ignore the fact that his brother’s wife, Jessie, came from a ranch close to Apache Junction. Logan, pretending to be an outlaw, had his life saved by two orphan boys after he’d been wounded in a robbery and left to die, and they’d taken him to Jessie.
The one thing Conner was certain of was that he needed time to do his own investigation.
He’d have to be very careful in questioning the boys. He didn’t want to alert his mother to what was going on. Macaria had welcomed those two boys as if they were her own. He and his brothers had breathed one long sigh of relief that Macaria’s attentions to her former suitor and new neighbor lessened considerably.
It had been a shock to learn that Charles Riverton, the man he and his brothers suspected of being behind the robberies and the rustling, had once courted their mother. They had become a little desperate when Macaria defended the man against their suspicions. The arrival of the boys to distract her had been a blessing.
He couldn’t stop thinking about his family’s reaction to Belinda Jarvis and her letter. In a matter of a few months the two boys had slipped into the weave of the family as if they had been born Kincaids.
And what would this do to the boys? They were as excited as everyone else that the Kincaid nursery would soon have a new baby in the cradle. His youngest brother Ty’s wife, Dixie, was due to give birth in a few weeks.
He flashed a stare full of the anger churning inside him at Belinda’s back. Like a dust devil, she had swirled in from nowhere to wreak havoc. Unfortunately, Conner did not believe she would disappear as suddenly as she had arrived.
“Sheriff,” Belinda said softly, slowly turning around to face him. “I, too, have done a great deal of thinking. Is there a problem that we need to discuss?”
“Problem?” Conner repeated, shaking off his black thoughts.
“Yes, a problem. I should have realized that there was one, with your reluctance.”
“You’ll pardon me, ma’am, but I’m not following you.”
“This man, this Kincaid, he’s an outlaw. Are you afraid to confront him?”
Conner stilled. He shook his head as if he hadn’t been sure of what she said. “Are you accusing me of being a coward?”
The oh-so-soft tone of his voice should have warned her, but Belinda, intent on having this over with, dismissed it.
She came nearer to the desk, glancing around the poorly furnished room. A blackened potbellied stove mounted on a slab of stone filled one corner. The series of pipes that rose to the hole cut through the roof appeared to be a rusted, flimsy affair. Next to the stove stood a table. One broken leg was tied with twine, another was balanced with the aid of an overturned enamel cup. The crowded top held coffeepot, plates, fry pan, cups and canned goods. She knew that the door behind him led to a jail cell, and the building did not appear large enough for there to be more than one.
On the wall opposite the Wanted posters, a battered bureau missing one drawer and several drawer pulls stood below a filled gun rack. The scarred desk and two chairs completed her survey. Poor, indeed.
Belinda found bribery a distasteful chore. But she had learned that bribes were necessary when one wanted things done immediately and to one’s satisfaction. She frowned as she closed the short distance to stand in front of the desk.
“I asked you a question, Miss Jarvis. Are you calling me a coward?”
“You misunderstood me. I never meant to insult you, Sheriff.” Conscious of the delicate line she walked, her tone conveyed intimacy. “I would imagine a man like you constantly risks his life for very little pay. I seem to recall that marshals earn as little as five hundred dollars a year. There was an article in the—”
“Yeah, you read that right. There’s little pay. But sometimes a man takes on a job for other reasons. I don’t see that what I’m paid to do my job has any bearing on your business. And I’m not about to forget that you called me a coward, no matter how fancy a spin you put on the words.”
“A poor choice of phrase on my part. I see before me a man who requires some added reward for doing his job.”
Placing her reticule on the desk, Belinda opened the drawstring and removed a thick wad of folded bank notes. She narrowed her eyes fractionally when she saw him hunch forward to stare at the money. A cold smile touched her lips.
“You appear to be a smart man. How much will it cost me to have you accompany me to the Kincaid ranch to retrieve my nephew?”