AN INNOCENT MAN

by Margaret Watson

  Suddenly he stopped short. A wall loomed in the distance, rising abruptly out of the stream. This was no beaver dam or fallen log. It looked as if it was made of stone, and it stood at least six feet high. Tightening his grip on the small black bag in his hand, he approached it cautiously.

  * * *

  Sarah checked her watch one last time and wiped her sweaty palms down the thighs of her jeans. It was time to move.

  Connor had been gone for twenty minutes, and she had to make sure everybody thought he was waiting for her in the clinic. Peering up the stairs to her apartment one more time, she was reassured by the flood of light that flowed down to her. She started for the door, then paused. Turning around, she strode to the bedroom where Connor was supposed to be staying and flipped on the lights there, too. If anyone looked at her building, she didn't want them to have any doubts that it was occupied.

  Her feet felt as if they were weighted with lead as she walked to the small video rental store. It did a brisk business most of the time, and today was no exception. Several people crowded around the shelves, looking for a movie to relieve the boredom of a small town evening. They all greeted her by name and she murmured hello to each of them, telling herself it was good to have witnesses. The whole purpose of this charade was to convince everyone Connor was with her tonight.

  "Hey, Sarah," the teenage clerk called. "We've got that movie you've been wanting." He held up a box displaying a romantic comedy she'd been trying to rent for a few weeks. Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. "Can't tonight, Pete. My patient claims he needs something a little livelier than that." Looking at the shelf of new releases, she picked up a box at random that featured a large gun on the cover. "How about this? Is it any good?"

  The clerk looked at it doubtfully. "I don't know if you'd like that, Sarah. It's awfully violent."

  She didn't have to fake her shudder. "Then it's just the thing. I have to catch up on some paperwork, anyway. Connor can enjoy it by himself."

  "Okay." The clerk typed her number into his computer, and a minute later he handed her a receipt to sign. "I hope he likes it."

  "I'm sure it's just what he had in mind," she assured the clerk, clutching the box in her hand. "He'll love it. And if he doesn't next time he can pick out his own movie," she said, smiling weakly.

  The clerk grinned at her and waved as she walked out of the store. Heading down the sidewalk toward Earlene's, she took a deep, shuddering breath and relaxed just a bit. That hadn't been so tough. And, thanks to the clerk, she hadn't had to do a thing to make sure the other people knew she was renting a movie for Connor.

  She repeated the process at Earlene's, leaving the videotape in a prominent place on the counter while she waited for her two steak dinners. When Earlene saw the tape, Sarah had to explain again that the movie was for Connor and she was going to do paperwork that evening.

  By the time she got to the clinic and locked the door behind her, she was trembling so much the tape slipped out of her hands and clattered on the floor. Drawing in a deep breath, she carefully set the two aluminum containers from Earlene's on the counter and picked it up. Tucking it under her arm, she headed up to her apartment.

  The steak tasted like the bottom of her running shoe and the mashed potatoes stuck to the roof of her mouth. Finally she shoved the plate away from her and put the box holding Connor's dinner into the refrigerator. She was supposed to be working on records, so it better at least look as if she was in her office.

  She glanced at her watch on the way down the stairs. Connor had been gone for an hour and a half. Flipping on the light in her tiny cubbyhole, she threw herself into the desk chair and leaned back, looking at her watch again. She had no idea when he would return. She didn't have to start worrying yet, she assured herself. It could be hours before he found anything up there in the darkness.

  Pulling her chair up to her desk with determination, she told herself she might as well get something done. Grabbing the first record in the pile, she stared at it with unseeing eyes. All she could picture was Connor, alone in the night up on the mountain.

  * * *

  Connor ran his hand over the wall and narrowed his eyes. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to build this wall. It was made of stones and mortar, and it ran down the middle of the stream until it turned sharply to the left and continued on into the darkness.

  He couldn't tell how far upstream it extended, but he'd check that out later. Right now, he wanted to know why someone would build a wall up at the top of the mountain. What did they want to keep in? Or out?

  With on hand on the wall he followed it into the night. The small stream soon disappeared from sight and sound, but the wall didn't seem to be getting any lower. Finally he stopped, measuring the distance to the top.

  It was just a shade over six feet high, about the same height as him. It would be an easy enough task to hoist himself over the top. Placing his hands on the uneven surface, he tensed his muscles and prepared to jump.

  A tiny arc of red flew through the sky, and he pulled his hands away and dropped to the ground. A moment later the sharp, distinctive smell of tobacco smoke drifted past him.

  Someone on the other side of that wall had just finished a cigarette and flicked the butt into the air.

  He leaned against the wall and drew in slow, deep breaths. Frozen in place, he waited for the sounds that would tell him he'd been spotted. Barely moving his head, he looked for something to use for cover. There were no trees. The only rocks were no bigger than small dogs, certainly not big enough to hide a man.

  After a while he heard the faint scrape of boots on rock. The sound got more and more faint, and as it became obvious that the person was moving away from him he allowed himself to relax just a hair.

  He had to know what was behind that wall. Whatever it was, it was somehow connected to the Wesley mine and what had happened to his father. When he couldn't hear the footsteps any longer, he stood up and quietly began to follow the wall again.

  After another hundred feet or so it began to get shorter. Finally he could see over it, and he stooped and approached the wall cautiously.

  He listened for a long time before he raised his head. The night was as silent as it had been before, with no sounds from the person he knew lurked on the other side. Standing just high enough to see over the stones, he scanned the area, then dropped to his knees.

  There wasn't a soul in sight, and he raised himself up once more. When he heard no shout, no sounds of someone approaching, he let himself look at what the wall was supposed to hide.

  There was nothing but a huge pool of water surrounded by piles of rocks. The wall in the stream had obviously been built to divert some of the water to build this pool. But why? And where did these rocks come from? They just as obviously weren't from the top of this mountain. They must have been brought in from somewhere.

  He had to get closer, get a better look. The full moon was just rising from behind the mountain peaks. In another twenty minutes the area would be brightly illuminated, and he needed to be gone long before then. He needed the cover of darkness.

  Following the wall, he walked until it was no more than a couple of feet high. He stepped over it and paused, waiting for any sign that he'd been seen. The pool in front of him was eerily still, not a ripple disturbing its glasslike surface. There wasn't a sign of the person who'd thrown the cigarette, and he walked quickly to the edge of the pool and knelt down.

  The air was heavy with dust and another, unfamiliar smell. The rocks that were piled haphazardly around the water seemed to be tumbling into it. In several places he could see piles of rocks rising out of the water.

  Rocking back on his heels, he stared at the water and the rocks and knew they were connected with the Wesley mine. Maybe this was the debris that had been so conspicuously absent from the mine today. But why would anyone haul it up the mountain? That made no sense at all.

  Except that Ralph Wesley was no fool. If this was connected to the mine, then there
was a damn good reason for it to be here. He'd have to do a little bit of research about gold mining.

  He began to back away from the pool when the rising moon glinted off something to his right. Scooting closer, he saw with a faint chill that it was a dead bird. One of the gray jays that were so common in the mountains, it lay on its side next to the water.

  Connor stared at it for a long time, then reached for his black bag. Groping inside it, he curled his hand around a couple of specimen bottles. Kneeling next to the pool, he carefully filled both of them with water without getting this hand wet.

  He'd capped the first one and replaced it in his bag when he felt something hard poke him in the back. "What do you think you're doing?" asked a low, guttural voice.

  Connor tensed, still holding the other bottle of water. He didn't answer, just crouched next to the water and waited for the other man to make the next move.

  "Turn around, nice and slow."

  Connor spun around and dashed the contents of the specimen bottle in the other man's face. When he instinctively threw up his hands to protect himself, Connor knocked the gun out of his grasp.

  The man lunged for the shotgun as Connor got one arm around his neck. Tightening his grip, he waited for his opponent to pass out. When the man slumped unconscious into his arms, Connor cased him to the ground and stripped off his shorts, socks and belt. Tying his hands behind his back, he stuffed his socks in his mouth and pitched his shoes and the gun into the darkness. Pausing only to grab his bag, he vaulted over the wall and headed toward the stream, running as fast as the darkness would allow.

  * * *

  Sarah had long since given up on her records. Leaving the light burning in her office, she headed to her apartment. She refused to look at the clock. It was her enemy, inexorably ticking off the minutes and hours that Connor had been gone. Every time she glanced at it, her anxiety cranked up a notch higher.

  There was no way she could even think about sleeping until she knew Connor was safe. Pacing the living room, she spied a romantic suspense book she'd been reading and picked it up. Throwing herself onto the couch, she opened it and began to read. A few minutes later she dropped it on the cushion next to her. Even the complex, riveting plot wasn't able to hold her attention tonight.

  Her gaze locked on the clock in her kitchen. Eleven o'clock. He'd been gone almost five hours. How long did it take to drive up the mountain and look around? He should have been back long before this.

  She had no choice. Running into her bedroom, she pulled on a heavy sweater and her hiking boots. Nobody would see her leave at this time of night, she told herself. And if anyone did, they'd assume it was because of an emergency somewhere. She wasn't going to leave Connor alone on that mountain for one more second. Remembering what had happened to him the last time he'd gone up there, she clamped her lips together to stop them from trembling and ran out the door.

  She was just easing her truck into gear, cursing the noisy muffler, when Connor's little car swung around the corner and rolled to a stop next to her. She stared at him for a moment, unsure whether he was real or just a vision conjured up by her desperate heart.

  When he jumped out of the car and wrenched open her door, she closed her eyes with a thankful prayer and slid into his arms. Wrapping herself around him, she held him tightly and whispered his name.

  "Where were you going?" he asked, holding just as tightly to her. "Is there an emergency somewhere?"

  "I thought there was one up on the mountain," she answered into the cool leather of his jacket. She tightened her grip. "I was worried about you."

  She felt him smile into her hair. "You were going to rescue me again." It was a statement rather than a question. His hands moved, slid down her back and under her sweater. "I thought I told you to stay here."

  "Anybody who saw me would have assumed just what you did." She tried to push away from him and he pulled her closer. "Damn it, Connor, I was scared to death. Do you know how long you've been gone?"

  "Too long," he said softly, and bent his mouth to hers.

  Her anger disappeared in the flood of fierce love and desire that washed over her. Her hands clenched his jacket and she opened willingly to him. All the fear and anxiety of the evening faded, replaced by a need for him that consumed her.

  Backing her against the truck, he pressed against her so that his rock-hard body burned into her. Tongues twining, hands digging through layers of clothes searching for skin, they stood outside in the cool night air for what seemed like forever.

  Finally Connor broke away and pulled her head next to his heart. "Let's go inside." She felt him straining to regain control and heard it in the tremor of his voice. "Aren't you even a little interested in what happened tonight?"

  Slowly she raised her head, looking at his profile in the moonlight. The full moon stood directly above them, bathing the angles of his face with a luminous glow. His tiny gold hoop earring stood out starkly against his black hair. He looked beautiful and fierce, and she knew that the fact that he was back, safely, mattered far more to her than whatever he had found.

  "Other things seemed more important to me," she said evenly, watching as his face softened momentarily. Then he backed up a step, as if remembering why he was here and chastising himself for allowing her to distract him.

  "I want to tell you," he said, taking her hand and leading her into the clinic building.

  He made himself a cup of instant coffee and pulled her down on the couch. "How much do you know about gold mining?" he asked abruptly.

  She shrugged. "They dig a hole in the ground and take out the gold. What more is there than that?"

  "I don't know, but I'm willing to bet a lot that there's more to it than that." He told her what he'd found, and ended by saying, "I took off running and I'm sure nobody followed me. He must have been up there by himself." Taking a long gulp of the scalding hot coffee, he looked at her again. "That guy sure looked a lot like a guard."

  "I can't think of any other reason for him to have a gun," she agreed. "Nobody ever goes that high up on the mountain. There's nothing up there."

  "There is now." He took another gulp of the coffee and set the mug down on a table. "I'm going into Glenwood Springs tomorrow to have that sample checked at a lab and do some research on gold mining. Are you sure you don't know anything about what your family is doing with the mine?"

  She frowned, thinking. Some faint memory niggled at the back of her mind. "I do remember something, a long time ago," she said slowly. "I was just a kid, but I overheard my father and Uncle Ralph arguing. I remember being scared, but I have no idea why." She looked at him. "It was something my father didn't want to do, and Uncle Ralph was pressing him."

  He brushed the hair from her face. "Don't worry about it. When I'm in Glenwood tomorrow, I'll find out all I can about gold mining. If that pond is connected with the Wesley mine, I'll find out what it is."

  His hand lingered on her cheek, and her heart began to pound. Turning to face him, she reached out to press her fingers against his lips. "I don't want to discuss the mine anymore tonight," she whispered.

  Slowly he pulled her to him. "There are a lot more interesting conversations we could be having," he agreed. Sweeping her onto his lap, he flicked his tongue over her earlobe. "Such as what you were going to do on that mountain in the pitch dark."

  "I would have found you." Her voice was fierce.

  "I think you would have." She heard the wonder in his voice, and then his mouth was on hers. She forgot all about the mine, the pond he'd found and the reason he was in Pine Butte. All that existed was this moment; her body straining into his and his hands molding her to him.

  Swinging her into his arms, he stood up. "The couch isn't going to be suitable for what I have in mind." His hand slid up her side to cup her breast, and he bent his lips to hers again as he strode into her bedroom.

  Laying her on the bed, he paused long enough to strip off his clothes and hers. Kneeling next to the bed, he watched her in
the moonlight. His eyes were dark and unreadable as he slowly smoothed his hand over her face. "I don't want to hurt you, Sarah," he whispered.

  "You won't. You didn't last night," she answered, deliberately misunderstanding him. There would be no regrets about this, no matter what happened. Reaching out, she drew him onto the bed. "I want you. Come to me, Connor."

  * * *

  Connor stood in the doorway of Sarah's bedroom, watching her stretch in her sleep. She had to be exhausted. God knows he was. They hadn't slept much in that bed of hers last night.

  His body stirred at the memory, and he turned away to get more coffee. He had to leave, this morning, before anybody got a chance to come looking for him. His motorcycle would be ready, and he'd be out of town and on his way to Glenwood Springs by the time one of the Wesleys came to call.

  And come they would. The next time they had a little chat, though, he would know what they were doing up on the top of that mountain. He suspected that would turn out to be his ace in the hole.

  Grabbing his black bag and a small duffel bag of clothes, he headed for the stairs. He paused at the top, and almost against his will walked slowly back to the bedroom.

  She knew he was going to Glenwood Springs today, he told himself. She wouldn't be upset to find him gone. But he couldn't leave without saying goodbye to her.

  The springs creaked as he sat down next to her. The sheet had slipped, and she was exposed to the waist. Just one touch, he told himself, staring at her creamy breast. Bending to kiss her mouth, he reached out and skimmed his hand over the smooth curves.

  A jolt of desire struck him and he dropped his bags and reached for her. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her, to spend the day making love with her. Thoughts of his father, of justice, of the Wesleys faded from his mind. All he wanted was Sarah.

  She stirred, and he felt her smile against his lips. "Good morning."