Undercover Sheriff

by Barbara Phinney

  Look-Alike Lawman

  Former lawman Zane Robinson never thought he’d wear a badge again—but to locate his missing twin brother, Zane’s taking on his identity as sheriff of Proud Bend, Colorado. There he discovers heiress Rachel Smith conducting her own search for a mother and child who’ve also disappeared from the small town. The cases could be connected, so Zane reluctantly agrees to team up with the feisty beauty.

  Rachel can’t afford to be seen getting too close to Zane—it could impact her ministry for misguided young women. But as the investigation continues, she’s hopelessly drawn to the gruff yet honorable lawman. Though trust doesn’t come easily to Rachel or Zane, in searching for the missing will they risk losing their hearts?

  “Maybe I don’t want anything that badly,” Zane said with a shrug.

  Rachel folded her arms. “That’s a flimsy excuse.”

  “Like yours is for coming here?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He tipped his head and walked closer to her. She refused to back away and thus show him how much he affected her.

  “I thought that you wanted to keep your distance from any lawman so that the women in your ministry finally learn to trust you.”

  Oh, that.

  “You’ve come up with a cheap excuse to see me.”

  Her cheeks hot, Rachel arched her brows. “Aren’t you full of yourself? I came here to tell you not to give up.”

  To prove her point, she dared to take a step toward him. He didn’t move. The air stilled around them, and he reached out and touched her chin. His fingers were warm, a striking contrast to the cold air that moved briskly over her face. They stared each other down.

  His voice lowered. “Do you want me to stay, Rachel?”

  Her heart pounded in her throat. Did she?

  Barbara Phinney was born in England and raised in Canada. After she retired from the Canadian Armed Forces, Barbara turned her hand to romance writing. The thrill of adventure and her love of happy endings, coupled with a too-active imagination, have merged to help her create this and other wonderful stories. Barbara spends her days writing, building her dream home with her husband and enjoying their fast-growing children.

  Books by Barbara Phinney

  Love Inspired Historical

  Bound to the Warrior

  Protected by the Warrior

  Sheltered by the Warrior

  The Nanny Solution

  Undercover Sheriff

  Love Inspired Suspense

  Desperate Rescue

  Keeping Her Safe

  Deadly Homecoming

  Fatal Secrets

  Silent Protector

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  BARBARA PHINNEY

  Undercover Sheriff

  Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct thy paths.

  —Proverbs 3:5–6

  I want to dedicate this book to all of you who think you’re not worthy of God’s love because of a past sin. There is good news for you. It is by God’s grace that we are freed from our sin. Please remember, you are loved and forgiven, so it’s time to forgive yourselves.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from Family of Convenience by Victoria W. Austin

  Chapter One

  Colorado, 1882

  When Zane Robinson stepped into his brother’s rented room, he found a woman rifling through the desk.

  He fully expected her to look up, for surely she’d heard him. Zane hadn’t exactly tiptoed along the narrow path that led from Mrs. Shrankhof’s kitchen to this back addition, determined to locate his missing twin. However, the well-dressed lady in front of him appeared oblivious as she yanked on the desk drawers, pulling out what looked to be a postcard, which she latched on to with the vigor of a miner striking gold.

  She then let out a harsh gasp, a look of guilty horror filling her face. For the briefest moment, Zane wondered if she was about to collapse. Thankfully, she did not. Instead, her expression hardening into tenacity, she had the gall to fold the postcard and shove it into an unseen pocket of her closely tailored skirt.

  Enough was enough. Zane prepared to charge into the room, settling his Stetson—which he’d removed when he’d come inside—back on his head so both his hands would be free. He felt a twinge as he remembered that the hat was the one his brother had sent him shortly after arriving in Proud Bend.

  Alex had written him jokingly that they now had matching hats, and that all they needed were identical clothes and their youth would be repeated. Back then, neither of them had minded wearing the same clothing. Such was the way one dressed identical twins.

  That one memory, a shameful one for Zane, lingered.

  Never mind it. Alex had long since forgiven him for that foolish ruse.

  Back to the issue at hand. That woman was stealing from his brother. Zane cleared his throat. “Who are you?”

  With a jump, the woman whirled. Upon seeing Zane, she sagged with obvious relief and smiled broadly. “Alex! You scared me!”

  Zane quirked an eyebrow. She thought he was his brother? Of its own accord, his hand lifted to his full beard. Had Alex grown one, as well? His brother usually preferred to be clean-shaven. Yet, this woman saw past the thick facial hair when no one else had so far. Walking through town—albeit with his hat on and his collar turned up against the wind—no one had even noticed that his face was identical to that of their sheriff.

  Zane’s chest tightened. Alex, his only surviving kin, was missing, gone now a week. Perhaps injured somewhere, or dead. Zane needed to find the deputy who’d wired him to ask if Zane knew where his brother was.

  He didn’t. Shortly after reading the telegram, Zane had boarded the next train from Canaan, Illinois, to Denver, Colorado, then down the other line to Proud Bend. He desperately needed to see what had been done so far to find Alex. But this woman in front of him needed to answer a few questions first.

  She stepped forward, her broad smile still lighting her features. “You’re safe! Praise the Lord! Where have you been? I took a card I just—”

  Her smile fell like a stone and was replaced by a frown. She cut off her sentence and withdrew that one step she’d taken. “You’re not Alex,” she accused. Her delicate brows pressed together as she searched his face. “Who are you?”

  Zane had no time for this. “Considerin
g that you’re stealing from my brother, the more obvious question would be ‘who are you?’”

  The woman gaped. “You even sound like Alex! Are you his twin?” She tilted her head, assessing him. “What am I saying? Of course you are. Apart from the beard, you’re identical.” She touched her chest again as she peered hard. “I don’t think I’ve ever met identical twins before. It’s amazing!”

  Zane’s attention dropped to her hand. Her fingers were rough and callused, nails cut short and utilitarian, a curious contradiction to the rest of this regal woman, whose fine, expensive-looking outfit was perfectly tailored to her tall, slender frame. Her black hair—what he could see of it beneath her bonnet—was arranged in a neat, fashionable knot.

  Who was she? Alex hadn’t mentioned this woman, or any woman for that matter. “My brother told you he has a twin?” Very curious, indeed. “How did that come up in conversation?”

  “It didn’t. It’s the only logical answer. You just said you’re his brother.”

  Of course. Zane rubbed his brow. He was tired. That was the only reason for the foolish question. The woman was frowning again. Studying him closely.

  Wariness tingled through Zane. She was smart. Was she also calculating? It certainly looked that way. He had better watch himself—he’d learned the hard way the dangers of other people’s craftiness. He was here to find Alex, not deal with yet another corrupt town.

  “I can see that you’re perfectly capable of answering questions,” he ground out. “So, shall we return to my first one? Who are you?”

  She wet her lips in what Zane might call a nervous action. As she should be, he thought without the charity he’d been taught as a child. Charity should be saved for those who don’t steal.

  Or betray their sheriff, as had happened back in Canaan.

  Surprisingly, the woman’s words were calm despite, he was sure, not wanting to give him a single shred of information. “My name is Rachel Smith.”

  “Good, Miss Smith. Very good.” Zane took a deliberate step closer to her, hoping to appear intimidating. Although she was taller than any woman he’d ever met, Miss Smith didn’t compare with his big frame. Yet she stood her ground.

  It didn’t matter. She’d been caught stealing. He thrust out his hand, palm skyward. “Now give me what you just slipped into your pocket. Before I take it from you.”

  * * *

  Rachel swallowed. Through her skirt, she fingered the postcard. She did not want to relinquish the only clue she had, although she had no idea why her name was scrawled on the postcard or how it had come into the possession of Proud Bend’s new sheriff. And she certainly did not wish to hand it over to this stranger.

  The postcard could be the last thing Alex had handled before he went missing. If she could learn where he’d obtained it, it could help her retrace the steps he’d taken during the investigation she’d asked him to make into Rosa’s disappearance. It could lead her to both Rosa and the woman’s young son, Daniel, not to mention Alex, for surely his disappearance had to be related to theirs.

  Please, Lord, keep them all safe. Rosa loves You now, I’m sure of it. If someone has kidnapped her to force her to return to that awful trade, change their hearts, Lord. Have all three of them released.

  “The contents of your pocket?” the man prompted her, his hand thrust out even farther. Rachel suppressed a shiver.

  Don’t be intimidated by this man.

  He was clearly suspicious of her presence in his brother’s room, and if he saw the postcard with her name on it, his suspicions would only increase. She arched her brows and locked her hands primly against her skirt, one palm ensuring the card remained tucked away. “So, since you are his twin, what is your name?”

  “Alex didn’t tell you? You two seem so close.” He paused, his brows lifted and his head tilted slightly to the left as if expecting a prompt answer. When she refused to rise to his provocation, he continued, “My name is Zane Robinson.”

  Rachel ignored his cold tone. His brother was missing, so he was bound to be in a foul mood. Still, she frowned. “Alex said his full name was Alexander Zane Robinson.”

  “That’s correct. I am Zane Alexander Robinson. Our mother thought it would be whimsical to switch our names.”

  “Interesting.” She nodded, all the while hoping to appear unruffled. She was anything but that. In fact, she felt more ruffled by the second. “Why are you here?” she asked, hoping to move the conversation away from the postcard.

  Zane did not move. His hand remained extended, waiting for her to relinquish the postcard still tucked safely in her pocket. Obviously, he did not wish to divert the subject. “Why did you just steal that card?”

  When she offered no explanation, he continued, “I want it. If you do not hand it over immediately, I will simply take it from you. By force.”

  Rachel swallowed. Regardless of her innocent motives, she had stolen something from Alex’s desk, and this man, his identical twin, had more right to it than she did.

  Lord, Your spirit is pricking my conscience. Have it work for Your good.

  Reluctantly, Rachel dug out the postcard. All she could hope for was that Zane would find it useful in tracking down Alex. “All I wanted to do was study it when I had the time, because I don’t have it now. I would have returned it.” She would have, she told herself fiercely, but the look of doubt on Zane’s face proved he didn’t believe her.

  “And the reason for not giving it to his deputy to aid in his investigation? Unless, of course, you are responsible for Alex’s disappearance.”

  “I’m not!” She threw back her shoulders. “I have no reason to wish any harm to Alex! I am, in fact, the one who is working the hardest to find him—and I’m just as capable as the deputy is at following a lead. Perhaps better than him. Otherwise, he would have already found this card himself. He has just admitted to me this very morning that he hasn’t yet searched this room because Alex was at the sheriff’s office, and before that, at the saloon, and had not been here for several hours before he was last seen. The deputy didn’t think searching here would help, whereas I do. That’s why I’m here. I’m retracing his last day starting in the morning.”

  “Really?” Zane’s extended hand did not waver, for she had not yet returned the card. “Leads can take a person to places where ladies such as you should never go.”

  A snicker escaped her lips before she could stop it. “You, sir, have no idea where I have gone. Regardless, this postcard could hold clues to your brother’s location. That’s the only reason I took it.”

  Oh, who are you kidding here? You’re also afraid you’ll be implicated in his disappearance.

  Ignoring the sudden internal accusation, Rachel opened the folded card slowly. It was a picture postcard of Castle Rock, the town just a few miles southeast on the same railway line that led up to Denver. The imposing butte jutted up in the picture’s background, an ugly formation Rachel knew was normally covered with mining paraphernalia, but in this romantically painted landscape, the artist had removed all that trash. She hastily committed the image to memory before turning it over. Beneath the standard postcard printing was her name, written at an upward angle. She didn’t recognize the handwriting, but knew that few people in Proud Bend—assuming the writer lived here and not in Castle Rock—could manage such smooth, readable cursive.

  Zane tugged the card from her grip, obviously impatient with her delay. After studying it himself, he glanced up at her. “It has your name on it, Miss Smith.”

  Rachel swallowed. “Yes. I can read.”

  “It’s in my brother’s handwriting.”

  She lifted her brows, all the while trying her best to stay reserved. She was anything but that. What Zane had just said answered one of her questions but added others. Why had Alex written her name on a postcard from the next town? Where did he get this card? Had
he traveled to Castle Rock in the course of his investigation into Rosa’s disappearance? If so, why take a postcard and waste it by writing only her name on it?

  Worry bit into Rachel. Lord, You know where they are. Lead us to them. Rosa wanted to give her life to the Lord, she’d told Rachel hesitantly, and the next day she had promised Rachel she would help her in her ministry to the misguided women who had fallen into a life of prostitution in Proud Bend. That had been over a month ago, for today was the seventh of December. Rosa had gone missing ten days ago. Rachel had gone straight to Alex the day after she’d disappeared. Two days after that, Alex had vanished, as well. So far, she’d found no clues to his whereabouts—except for this card. It might have nothing to do with Rosa, but if it wasn’t important, why keep it? It had been the only thing in a drawer that by now should have been littered with various small items.

  “How did you get in here?” Interrupting her thoughts, Zane glanced around the room. “Did my brother give you his key?”

  Rachel flushed. “Mrs. Shrankhof unlocked the room for me. Since I’m not privy to Alex’s official files on Rosa and Daniel—”

  “Rosa? Daniel?” Zane looked baffled as he cut her off. “Who are they?”

  “Rosa Carrera is a friend.” Rachel clipped her words, not wanting to mention the woman’s former profession. “Daniel is her young son, a toddler. They disappeared a few days before Alex did. I reported it.”

  “Perhaps they moved away?”

  Rachel shook her head. “She’d spent the weeks before her disappearance helping me with my ministry, and she was committed to the cause. She wouldn’t have just left. Besides, none of their things are missing—nor did she say goodbye to anyone.”

  “Just what is this ministry of yours?”

  She hesitated. She’d hoped to avoid specifying, worried that Zane would lose interest in the disappearance if he discovered that it applied to the unfortunates that society usually considered beneath their notice.

  “I minister to the soiled doves of Proud Bend, and attempt to bring them to God.”