AN INNOCENT MAN

by Margaret Watson

  "I see." Ralph Wesley stared from one face to the other. "It was an accident, then."

  It wasn't a question but a statement, and Sarah knew the final word had been spoken. Without another word Ralph turned to get in his car. When he saw Connor leaning against the door of the clinic, he stopped.

  "So they were right. You've come back."

  "I have." Connor stared at the older man, his relaxed attitude betrayed by the fire in his eyes.

  "There's nothing in this town for you, MacCormac. When you've recovered from your injuries, you'll be on your way."

  Again, it wasn't a question but a statement. Connor slowly straightened, never taking his eyes off the older man. "I'll be on my way when I've finished my business in Pine Butte, Wesley. And not a minute before."

  Sarah knew how injured Connor was. He couldn't possibly make good on the threat in his eyes. Still, she shivered and took a step toward him, intent on restraining him.

  Ralph Wesley's cold gaze swept Connor from his head to the toes of his dusty boots. "You never did know how to take advice, MacCormac. I thought maybe you'd gotten a little smarter since you left. I can see I was wrong."

  Sarah held her breath, feeling the anger coming off Connor in waves. Finally he smiled, and she shivered again. Cold, ruthless and utterly without humor, it was the smile of a predator who's just spotted his prey.

  "I think you'll find you were wrong about a number of things, Wesley." Connor's eyes flickered over the older man, the looked away, dismissing him. Only Sarah saw her uncle's hand whiten on the handle of his cane. When Connor leaned back against the door of the clinic, she and the three men stood frozen for a moment, staring at him.

  "Why is he here, Sarah?" her uncle asked, looking at her as if Connor didn't exist.

  "Because he's injured and needs to be watched." Her voice was even and she turned and looked steadily at her uncle. "That's what I do, remember?"

  "Send him to the hospital in Glenwood, then."

  Sarah felt her temper rise at the peremptory order. Glancing at Connor, she saw a muscle in his jaw tighten. "He's not injured badly enough to justify that. Besides, he doesn't want to go. He's an adult. He can make his own decisions."

  "So you're living with him. Can you imagine how he's laughing at you, after what he did to your sister?"

  "I am not living with him, Uncle Ralph," she answered, clenching her teeth but feeling her face redden as she avoided Connor's eyes. "He is staying in the clinic until he's recovered enough to leave."

  Her uncle turned to go, his gaze flicking over Connor dismissively. "Get rid of him, Sarah." He stepped into the long black car and it sped away, leaving a plume of dust behind. She watched it for a moment before turning to her cousin and the mine foreman.

  "The hospital in Glenwood will call me as soon as they know anything. I'll get in touch with you, Richard." She paused, looking at the two men. "Thank you for bringing him into the clinic."

  The foreman scowled at her and didn't bother to answer as he got into his truck. Richard said, "It was the least we could do, Sarah. I hope he's going to be all right."

  She stood on the sidewalk as the battered truck disappeared in the direction of the mine, then turned and looked at Connor again.

  He stood in the same place, watching her with unreadable eyes. Her gaze caught his and held for a moment, something dark and dangerous crackling between them like a flash of lightning. As she walked past him into the clinic, her heart began to pound. He followed her in, and the door clicked softly shut behind him.

  "I'm sorry," she said quietly after a moment, trying to diffuse the anger she'd felt in him. "They had no right to talk to you that way." She could feel his gaze burning into her back, but she refused to turn and look at him. And why on earth was she apologizing, anyway? Hadn't her uncle and cousin only said what she'd been thinking since he'd landed in her clinic the day before?

  "Why are you apologizing for your family? They're big boys."

  She flushed and turned around. "That doesn't forgive rudeness."

  He shrugged, a tight, bitter smile thinning his lips. "It's no less than I expected. They're just picking up where they left off twelve years ago, after all."

  "What do you mean?" It was because of the way Connor had left town that the people of Pine Butte came to despise him.

  His mouth twisted and he turned away from her. "Don't tell me you've forgotten, Sarah. Every town needs a bad boy, and I was nominated real early. I always figured it was because I was different – I had a different name, my father was an immigrant. Then my old man died, and it got real easy to live up to their expectations. Hell, I just did what everyone in town was waiting for me to do."

  She winced at the bitterness and anger in his voice.

  He turned and looked at her, apparently surprised at the shocked look on her face. "Don't tell me that the citizens of Pine Butte are ready to welcome me back with open arms. I'm sure they've filled your ears with a catalog of my sins, past and present."

  "Yes, but that's because…" She hesitated, then said in a rush, "I had no idea they treated you badly when you lived here."

  "You were an innocent, weren't you?" His voice was savage. "I figured everyone in town knew about the MacCormac boy."

  "Not everyone."

  "It doesn't matter anymore. Hell, I should personally thank every one of them. If it wasn't for the way I was treated here in Pine Butte, I wouldn't be what I am today."

  "And what is that, Connor?" she asked softly.

  He looked at her for a long time without speaking. His eyes assessed and gradually softened as he watched her. For just a moment, she saw a yearning deep in his soul. Then his eyes hardened and he stood up straight.

  "A man who gets what he wants. Remember that, Sarah. When your uncle and your cousin ask you what I'm doing here in Pine Butte, you tell them that I'm here to get justice. And tell them that I always get what I want."

  "Is that what my sister Barb got? Justice?" she cried. The question was torn from her, but she couldn't hold it in. He wasn't the only one who had suffered.

  "No, she didn't." His face tightened, and he said bitterly, "But there are some things that can't be undone."

  "That's certainly true," she muttered. "But if you haven't come back for Barb, why are you here?"

  "Like I told you, I'm here for justice."

  "Justice or revenge? You sound too angry for justice."

  He slowly sank into one of the chairs in the waiting room, and she suddenly remembered his injuries. He stretched his legs out in front of him, and she saw the slight trembling in the injured left one.

  "I couldn't have come back, even to av – take care of business, without the anger." Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the wall. "All I ever wanted to do was forget about Pine Butte."

  Stretched out in the chair, propped against the wall, he looked achingly lonely. In spite of the pain and anger she'd carried around for the past twelve years, something inside her wanted to go over and comfort him. The impulse shocked her.

  "Don't you know hatred only destroys itself? Go back to your life, Connor. Don't do this to yourself." Don't do this to me, she wanted to add.

  "Or to Pine Butte?" he asked sarcastically, opening his eyes. "I'm sure your uncle would be happy to hear you say that. He'd be thrilled if I started walking now and never turned around."

  "My uncle has nothing to do with it," she cried. "I have no idea why you've come back or what you hope to accomplish." Her voice steadied. "I just don't want to see you hurt yourself or anyone else." Why did she care, for God's sake? After what he did to her sister, she should be more than happy to see him self-destruct.

  "That's mighty thoughtful of you, Sarah. I'd be more touched if I didn't think you had an ulterior motive."

  "What possible motive could I have? I have no idea what went on here before you left twelve years ago."

  "You're a Wesley. That's motive enough."

  Her eyes flashed and she stood up. "Who's using n
ames now to lump someone into a category?"

  "There's a difference between being the poor Irish immigrant's son and the niece of the most powerful man in town. I wouldn't say it's the same thing at all."

  "You're in no physical shape to get into a fight with my family, Connor. Have you forgotten that?"

  "I have no intention of fighting with anyone. But you shouldn't worry. If anyone has a different idea, I heal fast."

  Levering his bruised body off the chair, he slowly stood up. Instinctively she started over to help him, then stopped. If she had been telling herself it was foolish to let herself feel attracted to him before, it was insanity now. Apparently he'd come back to Pine Butte carrying a grudge against the Wesley family, and he'd lumped her in with the rest of them. If the thought hadn't been so ironic, it would have hurt too much to bear.

  "Be careful," she said, trying to sound flippant. "I'd hate for all my good work to be wasted."

  "Don't worry, I'm not doing anything more stressful than looking at my mother's old house today." He paused, watching her. "And then maybe I'll go visit Barb, for old time's sake."

  The pain came sharp and fast, reminding her again why she despised him. "You won't have to go far," she said bitterly. "The cemetery is just outside of town."

  He paled. It was the first time she'd seen him rattled. "Barb's dead?"

  She looked at him. "She died eleven and a half years ago."

  "What happened?"

  "She went into labor in January. There was something wrong and I tried to drive her to the hospital in Glenwood Springs. Eagle Ridge Road was icy and we slipped off the road. She bled to death in the car."

  "My God!" His eyes softened and he reached out for her hand. "I'm so sorry. Sarah. But why did you have to drive her to the hospital? Where was the father of her child?"

  "You tell me." Pulling her hand away from his, she felt the familiar pain and anger gripping her. "She died giving birth to your baby, Connor MacCormac."

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  «^»

  "Like hell she did." Connor stopped dead in his tracks. Rage filled his face, wiping away the pain that had filled his eyes.

  "Is that what you all think of me? That I would walk out on a pregnant eighteen-year-old girl? That I would abandon not only her but our child, as well?" His eyes burned with a fury that made her back up a step.

  "Isn't that what you did? As soon as you found out she was pregnant, you took off. Having a child wasn't in your plans," she said savagely. "Isn't that what you told Barb?"

  Blue fire flashed from his eyes. "What I told Barb," he began fiercely, then paused. The anger faded, replaced by a weary futility that made Sarah fist her hands in her pockets.

  "What I told Barb doesn't matter anymore." All his rage had disappeared. "I'm sorry she's dead, Sarah. It must have been horrible for you."

  "Horrible. Yes, I guess that's one way to describe it." She would never forget that cold January night on Eagle Ridge Road. The car's wheels stuck off the side of the road, spinning more deeply every time she revved the engine. Looking at her sister, holding her hand when the contractions came and she sobbed with fear and pain. Watching the trickle of blood between her legs become a steady stream of red, dark and ugly. Remembering her own panic and helpless desperation, and how hard she'd tried to reassure her terrified sister. Remembering her frantic tears as her sister slipped into unconsciousness, praying for a miracle that never happened.

  "I'm sorry," he said again quietly, interrupting the memory she'd tried so hard to forget. "I had no idea."

  "Of course you didn't. You weren't anywhere near Pine Butte when she needed you."

  Connor heard the agony in her voice and saw the effort at control in her rigid back and was halfway across the room before he realized it. Stopping abruptly, he jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. She wouldn't welcome comfort from him. She thought he was the man who'd seduced then abandoned her sister, sentencing her to a painful and senseless death.

  He couldn't tell her the truth, not right now. She didn't know anything about him and the man he'd become. She would never believe him, and right now he didn't want to face the scorn in her eyes. Looking at her vulnerable back, at the way her bright hair curled softly against her neck, he felt his body tighten. She was becoming too damn important.

  "I have some things to do," he said abruptly. "I'll be back later." He had to leave. There was no place in his life for this kind of weakness. Moving stiffly, he turned and walked slowly out the door.

  * * *

  Four hours later, standing on the sidewalk in front of Earlene's restaurant, Connor hesitated with his hand on the door. He didn't want to eat alone. His gaze wandered to the clinic across the street. Maybe Sarah would be finished with her patients and he could persuade her to join him. He needed some way to repay her for taking care of him, he told himself. Then again, after what she'd told him about her sister, maybe all she wanted was to see him gone.

  Head throbbing and ribs and leg aching, he limped painfully to the clinic door. Maybe he should have listened to Sarah, not tried to do so much the day after his accident. His lips thinned as he pushed the clinic door open. He didn't have a choice. Now that everyone knew he was back, he needed to get to the truth as quickly as possible.

  "Sarah?" he called, shutting the door behind him. "Are you here?"

  "I'm upstairs." Her voice drifted down to him. "I'll be right there."

  He headed for the open door that looked as if it might hide a staircase. Before he got all the way there, Sarah came clattering down the wooden stairs.

  "I'm glad you're back," she said, her voice neutral. "I was beginning to worry."

  The surge of pleasure her words produced took him by surprise. It had been a long time since anyone had worried about him. Even the coolness in her blue-green eyes couldn't diminish the warmth that engulfed him.

  "I'm okay." His voice sounded gruff, and he cleared his throat. "I was just wondering if you wanted to go over to Earlene's and have dinner with me."

  Her eyes scrutinized him, sweeping him from head to toes. Their clear color was shadowed with old pain, and a faint puffiness told him she'd been crying. Finally she said, "Why don't you eat here tonight? I've got some spaghetti sauce on the stove and salad in the refrigerator. You'll probably be more comfortable if you can relax on the couch."

  Her words were carefully objective, spoken only out of medical concern. There was nothing personal about her invitation. She probably invited all her patients upstairs for dinner.

  That thought made him scowl. "Thanks, if it's not too much trouble."

  She shook her head before she turned to lead the way upstairs, pausing to lock the front door of the clinic first. "I have to eat anyway," she pointed out. "No one makes just one serving of spaghetti sauce."

  He couldn't walk into her house with the afternoon's accusations between them. "Sarah," he began in a low voice.

  She stopped on the lowest stair and turned.

  "About this afternoon. What you said about Barb?" He hesitated, groping for the right words. "I wasn't the father of her child."

  It seemed like a long time before she answered. "That's not what she told me." She turned and vanished up the stairs.

  "Wait." He followed her up the stairs as fast as he could. When he got to the room upstairs, she stood waiting for him, her whole body tense. The cheery room full of floral prints and bright colors should have seemed comfortable and welcoming. Instead it mocked him, the outsider forever locked away from the warmth. He was the intruder, coming back to where he wasn't wanted, opening old wounds in her life.

  "You're telling me my sister's a liar." Her voice was flat and brittle. She watched him with unreadable eyes.

  "I'm sure Barb had a good reason for saying what she did." He tried to keep the anger out of his voice. "It just wasn't true. I never slept with her."

  "Well, it's your word against Barb's. Guess who I'm going to believe?"

  "I know you
have no reason to believe me now. I'm not even sure why I want to bother to try to change your mind." She pushed her hair away from her face with one impatient hand, and his body tightened. He knew why. He just had no intention of telling her right now.

  "Connor, as long as you're my patient I'll treat you like I would any other patient. But don't expect me to welcome you back to Pine Butte. That's not part of my job." She turned and walked into the kitchen.

  He followed her to the kitchen and hovered near the stove until she turned to him, scowling.

  "Will you please just sit down before you fall down? You're standing there swaying on your feet."

  Thankfully he lowered himself into one of the wooden chairs that stood around the butcher-block table. "I'm okay," he said again. "Just a little tired."

  She stood facing him, skewering the air with a long, thin knife she was using to cut tomatoes. Almost as if it was against her will, her eyes softened. "A little tired, my left foot. You are ready to keel over. You've got the world's worst headache and it feels like ten horses kicked you in the ribs," she said, amazingly accurate.

  "Yeah, but other than that I'm fine."

  Her lips quivered for a moment, then a tiny smile flashed and was quickly suppressed. A sliver of the ice in her eyes melted. "I guess I shouldn't be so surprised you weren't hurt any worse. With a head as hard as yours nothing could cause much damage."

  With a tiny groan he settled back against the chair cushion. "That doesn't mean I'll object to a little tender loving care."

  "Spaghetti and salad are about as tender as it gets around here, MacCormac." The smile faded as she turned around and finished slicing the ripe tomato.

  They talked intermittently through dinner. By unspoken agreement they tried to keep the conversation light, both avoiding any talk about Pine Butte. She asked, delicately, what he did now, but he deflected the question easily and talked about something else. He enjoyed her company, he might want to do more than just talk with her, but he still didn't trust her. Anything he told her about himself could be used later as ammunition. He wasn't about to give anyone in Pine Butte a single round to use against him.