The Truth About Jane Doe. Linda Warren

face. All he saw was a spirited woman who warmed his blood. That wasn’t good; he was too aware of her, her beauty and her emotions. He had to get back to New York and to the kind of women he knew how to handle. Because he had no idea how to deal with C. J. Doe and her country-girl charm.

      Matthew moved around his desk, hoping for a way to reach her. “Everyone knows Mrs. Townsend had a big heart. Don’t you think that what she wanted was to give you some security? And in that case, it had nothing to do with your parentage.”

      She was thoughtful for a moment. “You’re good. For a second there I almost believed that.”

      Sitting on the edge of the desk, Matthew folded his arms across his chest. “Obviously you believe the rumors that have been circulating around this town for years.”

      “Rumors start somewhere.”

      One rumor stood out in Matthew’s mind, and he knew it stood out in hers, too. “As I recall, the rumors started with Joe Bob Schaffer. He claimed a beautiful dark-haired woman drove into his gas station around eleven o’clock on Christmas Eve asking directions to the Townsend ranch. As he was putting gas in her car, he noticed a baby in a basket on the back seat.”

      “Yes,” she murmured. That rumor had haunted her for years. Maybe because it had always seemed credible to her.

      “Evidently you’ve forgotten that Joe Bob stayed drunk ninety-nine percent of the time and didn’t remember the incident until two weeks after you’d been found. That is, after the Townsends refused to renew his lease on the gas station. Sounds to me like the man just had an ax to grind.”

      “Sounds like the truth to me,” she replied, refusing to dismiss the rumor so lightly. She took another step toward him. “I have to know who I am. I have to know why I was left on a doorstep on a cold December morning. It’s been burning inside me for years, and Mrs. Townsend has given me the power to force some answers. I believe that’s what she intended all along.”

      The sincerity of her words touched him, but he felt he needed to be practical, to make her aware of the futility of her decision. “You’re willing to give up a million dollars to find out if Rob or John Townsend is your father?”

      “Yes,” she answered without hesitation.

      He didn’t understand her reasoning, but he wasn’t going to belabor the point. This was what he wanted, an easy solution. But was it easy? For her? And how were his clients going to react?

      “You seem to feel sure the Townsends will agree to this.”

      “There are two things the Townsends understand—greed and power. But when it comes to a choice, greed will win every time.”

      He couldn’t argue that point, but he had to remind her. “You could be the big loser in all this.”

      “Just knowing one way or the other will be a big victory for me. And I wouldn’t consider that a loss.”

      There was great determination and confidence in her voice, but still he felt a need to warn her. “I strongly advise you to get an attorney.”

      A look of implacable resolve lit her eyes. “There are a lot of things I’m not sure of in this world, but of this decision I am very sure. I don’t need a lawyer to fill my head with irrelevant nonsense.” She took another step closer to him, so close he could see the fire in her eyes. “Let me make this easy for you and the Townsends. If one of the tests turns out to be positive, I’ll relinquish any hold the Townsends fear I might have on their estate. Plus, whether the tests are positive or negative, I will release my claim on the land and the money.”

      He whistled between his teeth. “That’s a powerful offer.”

      “Yes,” she agreed, and turned toward the door. “When you have an answer, let me know,” she tossed over her shoulder. With her hand on the doorknob, she turned back, green eyes twinkling. “Oh, Mr. Sloan, Jr., even though the Watsons are country people, we do have a telephone. So if you plan on coming out to the house, call first and I’ll open the gate. A bullet hole could really ruin a suit like that.” With those words she disappeared out the door.

      A grin spread across Matthew’s face. Through all this, she could maintain a sense of humor. He admired that and he couldn’t help but admire her.

      Unable to stop himself, he followed her to the front door. Through the window, he saw a four-wheel-drive truck pulling a long cattle trailer. Three horses occupied the trailer, and two dogs rested in the bed of the truck. Pete Watson sat on the passenger side of the cab, puffing on a pipe. It was actually a cab and a half, and he could see someone sitting in the back. Harry.

      As he watched, C.J. climbed into the driver’s side and the truck roared to life. Within seconds it pulled out into the main street of Coberville, the trailer clanging behind it.

      “SO HOW’D IT GO?” Pete asked.

      “It’s going to take the city lawyer a while to recover from the shock. He tried to hide it, but I could see he thought I was crazy for throwing away all that money.”

      “I hope you get the answers you’re looking for, girl,” Pete said, and added tobacco to his pipe.

      “Oh, I’ll get something,” she said. “The Townsends will be huddled over this for days, but in the end they won’t be able to resist the offer. Then I’ll know if I’m a Townsend or not.”

      “Don’t like this,” Harry muttered from the backseat.

      In the rearview mirror, she caught Harry’s bearded face. To some he was a scary figure, but to her he was a lovable old man and she adored him.

      “‘What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet,’” Harry quoted.

      C.J. appreciated his meaning in choosing this Shakespearean quote, but she had to ask, “Don’t you want me to know the truth?”

      “Truth.” He snorted. “‘Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you mad.’”

      C.J.’s smooth brow furrowed into a frown. Mad? Would the truth make her mad? Mad as in angry? Or deranged? What had Harry meant? She knew better than to ask.

      Most of the time Harry quoted Shakespeare, but he often changed the words to suit his purpose. Few people remembered he had studied literature at the University of Texas in his younger days. He wasn’t as ignorant as the majority of Coberville residents believed.

      She shifted into third and anticipation ran through her. The Townsends had to accept her offer. The deal was too good to refuse, and she was counting on Matthew Sloan, Jr., to tell them that. While she’d been talking to him, she got the distinct impression that he was concerned for her welfare. That was ludicrous. Why would he care about her? He was the Townsends’ lawyer. But she could still feel those dark eyes touching her skin, warming her in a way that had nothing to do with business. Careful, she warned herself. She had only one goal, and that precluded an emotional involvement with anyone, especially the Townsends’ new lawyer.

      MATTHEW WAS SO ABSORBED in watching the truck and trailer he didn’t hear Miss Emma come in until she asked, “Wasn’t that the Doe girl?”

      He swung around and tried not to appear guilty at being caught staring. “Yes, it was.”

      She plopped her big purse on the desk. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told that girl not to park that truck and trailer in front of this office. It takes up five or six parking spaces. Young folk never listen.”

      “She was only here a minute, and there’s no traffic or clients at this hour.”

      “Still, it’s the principle of the thing,” she complained, and sank into her chair. “I guess she was here about the Townsend case.”

      “Yes, we discussed a few things,” he replied, not wanting to get into particulars with Miss Emma.

      He started to ask about Herman, but decided to let that subject