Jared's Runaway Woman. Judith Stacy

a compelling—no, selfish, she silently admitted—reason to do so.

      A long silence stretched between them as Kinsey and the sheriff stood outside the jailhouse. Somewhere a dog barked. A pair of horses plodded down the street and their riders disappeared inside the Wild Cat. Lights burned in the hotel windows down the block and above the stores on Main Street.

      Kinsey drew in another breath, summoning her courage.

      “That new man in town,” she said, trying to sound casual. “That Mr. Mason staying at the hotel?”

      Isaac’s shoulders straightened and his chest expanded. “Did he do something, Kinsey?”

      The sheriff’s tone suggested he almost wished Jared had done something. As if Isaac would enjoy nothing more than taking out his pent-up hostility over his wife’s desertion on someone—anyone.

      “I was just thinking,” Kinsey said, fighting the urge to twist her fingers together from the outrageous lie she was about to tell, “that Mr. Mason reminded me of that bank robber from Cold Creek whose picture was on the Wanted poster outside your office about a month ago. Did…did you happen to notice a resemblance?”

      Isaac eyed her sharply and one eyebrow went up. “I might have.”

      “I noticed the poster is gone now,” Kinsey said, waving to the spot behind her where the Wanted posters always hung. “I suppose that means the robber was caught. But, well, I was wondering if the sheriff in Cold Creek is certain he got the right man?”

      Isaac stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I could send a telegram, find out for sure.”

      “That would be prudent,” Kinsey agreed. “And, I suppose, you might be concerned that, if the robber really is Mr. Mason, that he might…commit another crime.”

      Isaac nodded again. “Might be better if I got Mason off the streets.”

      “The townsfolk would surely feel safer that way,” Kinsey said. “I know I’d feel safer.”

      “I could lock him up.”

      “Just until you found out for sure if he’s the robber,” Kinsey said. “Say, until Friday? That’s the day the train comes through. You could take him to the depot, make sure he leaves town—for the safety of the citizens, of course.”

      “I could do that,” Isaac declared, his tone indicating that he would enjoy it, too.

      “But I wouldn’t want him to get hurt,” Kinsey said quickly. “I know that accidents can happen—anywhere.”

      “I’ll make sure Mason doesn’t have any accidents,” Isaac promised.

      “Good.” Kinsey paused.

      “And he’ll be comfortable.”

      “Well, not too comfortable.”

      “I’ll take care of the prisoner, don’t you worry.”

      “And I’m going to talk to Lily tonight,” Kinsey promised.

      They exchanged a look, sealing their unholy bargain. Both of them were desperate. Isaac, to get his wife back, and Kinsey to get Jared Mason out of her life. People pushed into a corner would do anything, and Kinsey and Isaac were no exception, given the high stakes.

      Kinsey hurried toward the boardinghouse. She glanced back to see Sheriff Vaughn heading toward the hotel.

      For an instant, she almost called him back. What had her life become? What sort of person had she turned into? Arranging to have a man—even Jared Mason—locked up in jail to suit her own needs?

      Kinsey’s stomach ached with guilt. She didn’t regret promising to intervene with Lily on the sheriff’s behalf. She truly felt itwas the right thing to do. But as for Jared…

      The ache in Kinsey’s stomach rose to grip her heart. Sam. A helpless little boy who’d already lost both of his parents. The tearful vow she’d made to her stepsister as she lay dying.

      The ugly truth about the Mason family.

      Kinsey drew in a fresh breath. Four days in jail wouldn’t do Jared Mason any real harm. He’d have a roof over his head, three meals a day. He wouldn’t be mistreated. He’d be loaded onto the train and sent packing.

      And it would get him out of Kinsey’s life. For a while. Perhaps forever.

      Sam would be safe. Beth’s dying wish would be respected. Kinsey would have the kind of life she’d wanted since she was a child.

      Her heart ached again, this time in an old, familiar way. Oh, to think that her dearest dream might one day come true…

      Kinsey pushed away the thought. She headed back to the boardinghouse.

      A night for celebration. No doubt about it.

      Jared reared back in his chair and picked up his beer—his third, so far—from the table in front of him. Around him, the dozen or so other patrons of the Wild Cat Saloon drank at the bar, told stories, or played cards. Everyone in a jovial mood.

      And none more so than Jared. He tipped up his beer, thoroughly pleased with himself. His gut glowed with the success he’d pulled off today.

      He’d gotten Clark’s boy back.

      Winning a large contract, edging out the competition for a big job, convincing a supplier to meet the terms Jared dictated, none of his many achievements in the business world even came close to the feeling of accomplishment he felt tonight.

      Jared couldn’t believe his good luck. After walking Clark’s son home from school, he’d gone into the boardinghouse intending to find Kinsey and talk to her. He’d found something much more important. The family Bible that had revealed the truth of her past.

      He’d been stunned. Damn Pinkerton detective had gotten a key element of his search wrong—dead wrong. No information on a stepsister, on a real Kinsey Templeton in his report. No mention of her in Clark’s letters to any of the family, either.

      But Jared had gotten his way, despite the mistake, and that’s all that mattered.

      He took another long sip from the foamy beer glass, and once again considered sending a telegram to his family back in New York with the good news that Clark’s son had been found. But Jared disregarded the idea. Better to keep the situation to himself, especially here in Crystal Springs. There was plenty of time for sharing the good news after he and the child were on the train home.

      And the two of them would be homeward bound tomorrow. Jared’s gut ached a little as he sipped his beer. Tomorrow, he’d begin to make up for what he’d done, in memory of Clark.

      Bright and early, he intended to pick up the boy and head east in a wagon he’d rent from the livery stable. From Cold Creek, he’d take the stage, then meet up with the train at the closest depot.

      He didn’t worry that Kinsey would run off with the boy again. Jared had her dead to rights. With no blood claim on the child, and lacking legal authority, there was no way she could justify keeping the boy any longer. Besides, the train and stagecoach were the only way out of Crystal Springs. He couldn’t imagine her running off on foot, dragging the boy and her belongings with her. Jared was reasonably sure she didn’t have the money to buy a horse and wagon either.

      So he was set. A little smile pulled at Jared’s lips. He’d be back in New York in plenty of time to get up to Maine, start the new job that awaited him. The project was a big one and Jared was anxious to get it started.