Jared's Runaway Woman. Judith Stacy

what Kinsey Templeton might do to keep her son.

      The front door of the boardinghouse was unlocked so Jared walked inside. The parlor was neat, nicely furnished with two settees, several chairs, bookcases and a piano. Off to the right, the large dining room table was backed by a china hutch, its beveled glass doors sparkling in the morning sunlight that beamed into the room.

      The place was silent. Jared figured everyone was at church.

      Everyone but Kinsey and Sam.

      He glanced up the staircase, listened for a moment, then headed down the long hallway toward the back of the house. The men at church had told him Kinsey lived and worked here so he went into the kitchen and, sure enough, spotted her in a small bedroom.

      Already she had a satchel sitting on the bed and drawers open in the bureau. Sam stared up at her, grass stain on his shirt, tears on his cheeks.

      Jared crossed the kitchen and planted himself in the bedroom doorway. Kinsey whirled, saw him, stepped in front of Sam and pushed her chin up. They glared at each other for a few seconds, sizing each other up.

      “You’re frightening the boy,” Jared said softly.

      “Keep away from us.”

      “You and I need to talk.”

      Sam peeked around his mama’s skirt and Jared’s chest tightened. His brother’s child. The only thing left of him. And only one way—one easy way—to get him.

      Jared took a step backwards. “Let the boy go outside and play. He doesn’t need to hear this.”

      Kinsey didn’t move. Not an ounce of trust showed in her expression. Jared didn’t blame her. If he had a treasure like this, he’d protect it with his life, too.

      “I’m just here to talk,” Jared said, holding out both palms.

      He retreated to the other side of the kitchen, well away from the bedroom and the door that led outside. After a moment, Kinsey knelt and spoke softly to the boy. He sniffed and nodded. She pulled a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and wiped his eyes and nose, then lifted him into her arms and carried him to the back door. She stood there for a moment, the cool breeze blowing in, and eyed Jared hard. He backed up another step and she put the boy down, spoke to him again, then watched while he ran outside and pulled himself into the rope swing that hung from an oak tree in the backyard.

      Kinsey pushed the door closed and turned to Jared, her hand behind her, still on the knob.

      “You’re not taking him,” she said. “If that’s what you’re here for, you may as well leave right now.”

      His gaze darted to the window. “That’s really him? That’s Clark’s son?”

      She hadn’t expected to hear the softness in his voice, the sorrow and longing. With some effort, Kinsey hardened her heart again.

      “You’re Jared, aren’t you?” she asked. “Clark spoke of you. I knew you’d be the one to come.”

      His eyes cut toward her and Kinsey saw the hard edge, the toughness—both mental and physical—Clark had told her about. Jared, the oldest of the brothers. Biggest, smartest. The leader.

      The only Mason tougher than Jared, Clark had said, was their mother. Kinsey knew that was true.

      She knew, too, that she was cornered. Escape wasn’t possible, not at the moment, and she’d have to deal with this man.

      He shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking a little unsure of himself.

      “About last night….” Jared cleared his throat. “I didn’t know that was you in the alley. I sawyou across the street from the stage depot and again working in the restaurant kitchen, but I didn’t know who you were. I wouldn’t have…kissed you, if I’d known. Sheriff told me afterwards.”

      Heat rushed into her cheeks. Kinsey glanced away.

      “It’s dangerous for you to be on the streets like that at night,” Jared said.

      “Worried that somebody might grab me?” she asked.

      “Yes.”

      “Like you did?”

      His gaze hardened a bit. “I only meant to protect you when the shooting started at the saloon.”

      Kinsey gestured toward his pistol. “I’m surprised you didn’t start shooting, too, like most men would have done.”

      “Oh.” Jared looked down at the gun. “Well…”

      “So I owe you my thanks,” Kinsey said. “For that.”

      Jared walked to the window. Kinsey turned and they stood together watching Sam in the swing. Several long minutes crept by, the silence reminding Kinsey of exactly who this man beside her was, even if she had raised onto tiptoes to kiss him.

      “He’s healthy?” Jared asked.

      Kinsey nodded. “Smart, too. He’s in school. The schoolmarm was impressed that he can read already.”

      “You taught him?”

      “Sam’s got a quick mind,” Kinsey said. “Like Clark.”

      She sawthe hard look on Jared’s face soften again, revealing the hurt and sorrow that he surely still felt for his brother, and that he probably preferred Kinsey didn’t see.

      “His name is Samuel?” Jared asked.

      “After your father,” Kinsey said. “Itwas Clark’s idea.”

      Another quiet moment passed before Jared spoke again.

      “We need to talk this out,” he said.

      “No, we don’t. You need to leave.”

      “I won’t do that.”

      They squared off. Kinsey felt her anger rise. She saw Jared’s jawtighten, but he drewin a calming breath.

      “I want both of you to come back to New York with me,” he said, “and live in our home.”

      “We have a home.”

      “Sam’s family is there.”

      “I’m Sam’s family,” Kinsey said. “I’ve been taking care of him since the day he was born and I don’t need any—”

      “You call this taking care of him?” Jared demanded, waving his arms. “Living in the back room of a boardinghouse? Working two jobs to scrape by?”

      “I take excellent care of Sam!”

      “How much money have you put away?” He edged closer. “What if he gets sick? Can you buy medicine? Pay a doctor?”

      “I’ll find a way—”

      “What about his future? His schooling? His education?”

      “I can manage—”

      “You’re robbing him of what’s rightfully his. Did you think about that?” Jared asked. “The boy’s entitled to Clark’s inheritance.”

      “I don’t need—”

      “The Mason family is one of the most powerful in the East,” Jared told her. “We’ve got money—lots of money. We’ve got political connections. Social position. We know important people in high places who can get things done. All of that is Sam’s birthright. He’ll have everything he could ever need.”

      “I don’t want that sort of life for him,” Kinsey said.

      “It’s too late for that,” Jared said. He jabbed his finger toward the window. “He’s a Mason.”

      She shook her head frantically. “No.”

      “And so are you.” Jared pointed at her now. “You can make up a new first name