Once a Lawman

by Raine Cantrell

  Conner rested his arms across the top slat of the box stall. “Here’s another truth. Belinda Jarvis—”

  “You can’t believe her.”

  “Already told you that I do. There are too many facts that add up.”

  “No. It doesn’t add up for me.”

  Conner heaved a weary sigh, “Logan, you can deny it all you want. But the lady has corset steel running up her backbone, and she’s not going away. You can’t ignore—”

  “I’m not ignoring it.” Coming to his feet, Logan shot his brother a narrow-eyed glare. “I’m listening to you and getting this real strange feeling that you approve of this woman. I thought you said she was as mouthy as a chicken house when the fox is around?”

  “Did I say that?”

  “Denying it?”

  “Nope.”

  “What’s with you, Conner? You admire this woman?”

  “Heaven forbid. She’s starched harder than—”

  “Conner. Stop telling me how much you don’t like her. Tell me instead that she can’t take the boy away from us.” Running one hand through his dark hair, Logan glanced around. “Jeez, what the hell am I going to tell Jessie?”

  “Try nothing for now. I told you, I rode out here to warn you and only you. Don’t say anything to Ma or Jessie. Tell Ty, if you want to. I’ll do all I can to check out her story.”

  Conner opened the stall door for his brother, then latched it. Logan appeared dazed, as if it were finally sinking in that Conner was serious.

  Logan didn’t move when his brother placed his big hand on his shoulder.

  “Listen to me, Logan, you can help me disprove her claim. If you’re so sure she’s barking up the wrong tree, get me proof. The boys have their family Bibles, don’t they?”

  Logan stared at the closed door of the storage room. “All their stuff is back there. Everything their wagons carried. I never asked them to go through it after the first time they refused. I took Kenny’s word from the start that they were cousins with no kin to take them in. I can’t believe that boy lied to me.”

  “We don’t know for sure that he did. ’Sides, Kenny’s got a way ’bout him that’ll have the preacher thinking he’s the sinner to be saved.”

  Conner shared his brother’s laughter. It quickly faded. “We need to talk to Kenny first.”

  “Well, we can’t. Santo took the boys and Jessie up to the canyons to hunt for berries. You’ll have to stay till they come back.”

  “All right. But think hard about this, Logan. If Miss Jarvis is right, she’s got the law on her side.”

  “The law?” Logan dropped the wooden carry box, kicked it aside and lunged for his brother.

  “Say that again,” Logan demanded, grabbing hold of Conner’s arm.

  “You heard me plain enough. If she’s right, Logan, I’ll have no choice but to turn over the boy to her.”

  “The hell you will.” Logan drew back his arm and let a punch fly at Conner’s jaw.

  Conner ducked his head to one side. The blow struck his shoulder. Logan lunged at him. Conner barely managed to shove him back, for they were of similar height and build. When Conner saw that Logan was coming at him again, he laid into his brother until he had him slammed up against the support beam. Dust filtered down from the rafters, choking them both as they struggled.

  Breathing heavily, Conner was the first to back away. “Damn it, Logan, stop. I don’t want to fight you.”

  Chest heaving, Logan glared at him. He had supported Conner’s decision to go after the sheriff’s job. But this…this was betrayal of the worst sort. He shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re standing there, standing against me, against us.”

  “I’m not against—”

  “You sure the hell are! You’re standing on Kincaid land, Conner. Standing there and telling me you’ll break my Jessie’s heart, not to mention what taking one of those boys will do to Ma. And my boys, Conner? What about them? Did you once think about what separating them will do? After all Kenny and Marty have been through, losing their folks, living hand to mouth, scared and alone. You think I’ll let a stranger tear them apart after they almost died trying to save my life from outlaws.”

  Logan’s voice became hushed. “If you dare try taking—”

  “Don’t threaten me, Logan.”

  “Don’t get up on your high horse with me, Conner. You’re not the ramrod of this outfit anymore. You’re nothing but a brass badge who can’t remember his family always came first with him.”

  “And you’re angry with the wrong person. Stop saying—”

  “I’ll have my say—”

  “Logan! Don’t say another word. You’ll regret it, like I’m already doing. And lower your voice before the whole ranch knows why I came out here.”

  “Afraid you’ll tarnish the Conner-can-do-no-wrong image? Go to hell.” Logan swiped his hand across his mouth. His tongue probed his tooth. His jaw was already starting to swell from where it had connected against the wood.

  Conner rubbed his hands up and down his thighs in an effort to control his temper. His effort wasn’t helped by having Logan glare at him as if he were something that had crawled out from beneath a rock. Damn Belinda Jarvis!

  “Logan, listen. I—”

  “No. You listen.” He fixed his gaze on his brother’s face. “I’ll talk to my boys and find out if there’s any truth to this claim. I’ll get out the Bibles, too. But I don’t want you anywhere near them.”

  “You’ve got no right—”

  “I have every right, Conner. I’m the closest thing to a pa those boys have. I can’t believe you’d forget who that woman is staying with. Before you rode out here, did you once think that Riverton put her up to this?”

  “Why? What would he gain—”

  “Plenty, Conner. This could be his ploy to split us apart.”

  Raking his hand through his hair, Conner let his hand fall to his side. As long as Logan was willing to reason this out, he had to make another effort. But it was tearing him inside to take the opposite side at every turn.

  In a calmer tone, he answered his brother. “On the ride out here, I thought about the possibility of Riverton setting this up. I may not like what Belinda Jarvis had to say, but I’d stake a heap on her believing every word. You weren’t there, in my office, when I told her that you were my brother. Like I told you before, she had this report from the Pinkertons that an outlaw and a widow left Apache Junction with two boys that didn’t belong to them.”

  Conner saw the mutinous expression forming on Logan’s face and held up one hand. “Just let me finish. Much as I’d like to tie this neatly up and lay it at Riverton’s door, I can’t. For two reasons,” he hurried to add before Logan could say a word.

  “He couldn’t be sure that it would split us up. And even if he somehow figured a way to use this to his advantage, there’s still Belinda.

  “There’s no way that woman faked her reaction when I said you were my brother. She didn’t know that I’m a Kincaid. Riverton would have told her that.”

  Logan stepped back from Conner. “And that’s it?” he demanded. “That’s all you’ve got to say? You’re willing to tear this family apart on the word of some woman who didn’t act like she knew you were a Kincaid?”

  “Take the damn wood out of your ears, little brother! I said I’d send telegrams. I’ll verify her story before I let her near this family. My family, Logan. Just try and understand that I’ve got a job—”

  “Shove your job, big brother. Shove it to hell and gone!” He turned his back on Conner and headed for the door.

  “Logan.” Conner started after him, then shook his head, knowing it was useless to try and talk anymore.

  He didn’t understand what had happened. Logan was usually the calm one, always willing to listen to all sides. This time, instead of offering to help him figure it out so no one was hurt, his brother allowed anger to override good sense.

  Churning anger had him swinging without thought. His fist
connected with the solid wooden beam. Another shower of dust rained down on him. The anger was still there, and so was the beam, but now he sported skinned knuckles.

  He would love to prove that Belinda Jarvis was in cahoots with Riverton to drive a wedge between the Kincaids.

  He’d love it, but deep inside himself, he knew it was not true.

  A last nagging doubt forced its way into his thoughts. If she hadn’t been so easy to kiss, would he still believe her?

  Conner eyed the spilled contents of the carryall. Old habits were hard to break. He hated things out of place, just like he hated loose ends. As he bent and picked up the items to replace them in the wooden box, Conner replayed his meeting with Belinda.

  He had denied knowing much about the Pinkertons, but any lawman worth his forty-eight dollars a month knew the agency’s reputation. But just as that part of her tale rang true, Conner sensed that Belinda had left a great deal unsaid.

  And if he believed her, then Kenny had lied to all of them with his claim that he and Marty were cousins.

  He had come to Logan as a brother, now he had no choice but to approach him as the law.

  Chapter Five

  Hot and tired, Jessie wished she had stayed home and let Santo take the boys without her on the hunt for the first wild berries of the season.

  She had spread a picnic lunch in the shade cast by the rock wall of a slot canyon, contented to remain there while Santo, Kenny and Marty followed a set of animal tracks deeper into the canyon.

  She had become discouraged by the empty search of so many small arroyos and canyons, looking for the elusive berries, but the happiness of the boys meant so much to her that she couldn’t voice a desire to return to the ranch.

  There was another reason she wasn’t anxious to return, one she couldn’t speak to anyone about. Not even to her husband. Logan wouldn’t understand how difficult the past few months had been for her.

  It wasn’t that Macaria or Sofia resented her in any way. The women had welcomed her and the two orphan boys into the family. Even Dixie, her new sister-in-law, had offered friendship, but now Dixie was deeply enclosed in a cocoon with her husband as they awaited the birth of their first child. Rosanna, Sofia’s daughter, was the only one to see the restlessness that plagued Jessie and eagerly relinquished her chores to help Jessie fill the hours.

  Maybe too eagerly. There was something about Rosanna that bothered her. A vague feeling that began when the young woman questioned her about the effort to clear Logan’s name. Jessie had been so startled that she knew her attempt to hide her reaction was not successful. And it wasn’t the questions themselves that bothered her—after all Rosanna had grown up with the Kincaids—but the fact that she seemed to know more than Jessie did.

  Touching the gold of her wedding band, Jessie brushed aside the unease. Perhaps it stemmed from her own sense of having lost a tiny part of her hard-won independence.

  She had fallen in love with Logan’s family as easily as she had fallen in love with her outlaw. But she couldn’t help feeling that all the Kincaids had a place and she had yet to find hers.

  Dixie would have the first Kincaid baby, and Macaria was occupied with the coming of her first grandchild.

  And Jessie had…not the boys, not any longer. If Sofia wasn’t spoiling them with her special treats, Santo or one of the men was teaching them necessary skills.

  She couldn’t even look after her own herd of cattle. Logan refused her offer to count them as part of the Kincaid herd. Santo, to forestall an argument, had come up with the suggestion that Kenny and Marty be responsible for them. She had forgiven Logan for turning down her gift when he later held her in his arms and explained that he wanted her to have something of her own.

  She couldn’t deny him, just as she couldn’t deny that Santo had made a wise decision. Kenny thrived on responsibility and little Marty was thriving, too. His nightmares had lessened, wrapped as he was within the love and safety provided by family.

  Both of the boys had put on weight, but Jessie didn’t think she would ever take the sound of their laughter for granted. She would never forget how close she had come to losing them and Logan.

  Shuddering with the memory, Jessie was wrenched from her thoughts by the sound of Marty calling her.

  “Jessie! Jessie, come see. We found the rustler’s camp!”

  “Rustlers,” she repeated, dread filling her. “Marty, wait.” But as she scrambled to her feet and started for him, she saw his blond head disappear around a rock slide.

  “Santo is with them. He wouldn’t let anything harm the boys,” Jessie whispered to herself as she ran deeper into the slot canyon.

  Belinda was disturbed by the armed guards at the gate leading up to Charles’s house. The concern remained despite the sight of a sprawling home that made her catch her breath.

  Although her uncle and Charles himself had reassured her, she had retained her doubts about the accommodations she would find at the end of her journey.

  Armed guards aside, her doubts vanished.

  “Welcome to my home, Belinda.” Charles offered his hand to help her alight from the buggy. “I hope you will think of it as your own while you grace me with your charming company.”

  The hushed intimacy of his voice forced her to look at him. His dark, almost black eyes, met her gaze with a warmth that Belinda did not return.

  Unlike many men of the day, Charles had no mustache, or beard. His sweeping sideburns were neatly trimmed, but this close to him she saw the coarseness of his skin. She had been wrapped in thoughts of the sheriff—not a good sign—and never noticed Charles’s fleshy jowl or the thinness of his lips.

  An old saying of her grandmother’s came to mind: Thin lips indicate a petty character. When his thick brown eyebrows pulled together in a frown, Belinda realized how long she had been staring at him.

  “Thank you for your generous offer, Charles. I hope I shall not impose on your hospitality for too long.” Belinda made an attempt to brush the fine red dust from her skirt.

  “We shall see, my dear. Perhaps you will become enchanted with this land.”

  There was a hint of insistence in his voice. Belinda could interpret his tone in no other way. Once more she was disconcerted by the feeling that she had made a mistake. As Charles turned to issue orders about her luggage to the two men who had accompanied them up to the house, Belinda looked at his home.

  Coolness in the face of desert heat was the goal of home builders, that and protection from dust storms, earth-shaking rains and marauding Indians.

  The house sat on a slope of land so that, even standing where she was, she could see down to the gate, across the fenced corrals and pastures where he kept his blooded stock. He had pointed out the long stone bunkhouse, built of rock hauled from the mountains so he couldn’t be burned out as many ranchers had been. Barns, stock pens, smoke houses and other buildings were clustered below.

  Turning to the house, she admired the graceful arches of cool-looking whitewashed adobe that invited one beneath the dark-timbered supports and reddish tile roof. Wicker chairs and clay-potted plantings added to the cool welcome.

  Charles took her arm and urged her to step onto the tiled entranceway. The double wooden doors were flanked by large gleaming brass and glass lanterns. Brass was repeated in the door’s massive hinges, handles and studded design.

  “These doors, Charles, the workmanship is exquisite.”

  “I’m rather proud of those myself. My business frequently takes me into Mexico. A small village priest approached me about buying the doors of his church in order to get the money to dig a new well. Since the stop didn’t take me out of my way, I agreed to at least look at them. Those peasants often have an inflated sense of the worth of what objects they sell. But as you see, I was most pleased by the bargain we struck.”

  Belinda murmured admiration, manners dictated she do so, but her estimation of Charles Riverton fell several degrees. She had been brought up and truly believed that those f
ortunate to have wealth should do charitable works, not take advantage of those in need. Charles obviously did not follow that same path.

  He was her host and her uncle’s friend, she reminded herself. It was not her place to criticize him. But his admission added to the disturbed feeling that wouldn’t leave her.

  “Ah, Mrs. Dobbs. I wondered what was keeping you.”

  Belinda’s attention immediately focused on the dour-faced woman who whispered to Charles. From the gray threading the severely pulled back hairstyle to the prune shade of her high-necked gown, unrelieved by any adornment, Belinda likened her to the matrons who worked in the local orphanage back home.

  There was no smile of welcome as the woman stood aside and Charles made introductions before ushering her inside his home. Nor did Mrs. Dobbs speak when Charles instructed her to show Belinda to her room so that she could refresh herself.

  “I especially hope that you find your room to your liking.”

  “I am sure that I will, Charles.” She ignored the slight squeeze he gave her arm before releasing her. Belinda caught sight of someone peering at her from the doorway of one of the rooms down the hall. She angled her head to the side, but whoever was there was gone. She could not tell if it was a man or a woman, for a hat brim shadowed their face.

  “Go along, my dear. Mrs. Dobbs will unpack for you. Then I hope you will join me for a light repast in the courtyard.”

  Belinda, longing for a hot bath, not his company, recovered herself enough to remember that he had deliberately distracted her when she questioned him about the Kincaids.

  Her smile added to her assurance that she would love to join him. Charles was the only source of information she had about this Kincaid family. She needed as much local information as possible before she confronted them with a demand to return her nephew.

  Following the silent Mrs. Dobbs down the wide, high-ceilinged hallway, Belinda peered into the open doorways of the rooms on either side.

  She didn’t see anyone and wondered if she had imagined that someone had looked out at her. She knew it was not her imagination that spawned the impression that Charles intended any visitor to his home to understand that he was a man who lived alone, a wealthy man, and one who had power. It was declared in the heavy wood lines of furniture, the leather and supple hide coverings, the thick Turkish carpets centered on every floor.