The Truth About Jane Doe. Linda Warren

the challenge in his. “Mr. Sloan, Jr., if you can break the will so easily, I don’t think the Townsends would be offering me a million dollars.”

      He sighed heavily. “The offer is just a matter of expediency, Miss Doe. With the election coming in the fall, the Townsends want to get this over with as quickly as possible.”

      “I bet they do.”

      Hearing the mocking tone in her voice, he rested his elbows on his knees and folded his hands, eyes trained on her. “Miss Doe, don’t take this lightly. I’m very good at what I do.”

      “I’m sure you are, but to break the will you’ll have to prove Mrs. Townsend wasn’t in her right mind or that I influenced her in some way.”

      “There are other approaches I can take. All I have to do is prove Mrs. Townsend felt sorry for you and had a momentary lapse in judgment.”

      From the look in her eyes, he knew he was finally getting through to her. Time to go for the jugular—tell her everyone felt sorry for her, call her a nobody, make her cry, watch the tears roll down her face and reinforce that she didn’t have a chance in hell against him and the Townsends. Then tell her to take the money and build a new life. But when he looked at her throat, all he saw was gorgeous creamy skin… He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t break her down. The thought rocked him to the core. What was happening to him? Had Coberville made him soft? Or was it her?

      Matthew was so caught up in these troubling thoughts that he didn’t notice a rider had come into the yard until he heard the dogs bark.

      He glanced toward the corrals to see a tall rangy man dismount. Pete Watson. With handlebar mustache and spurs jingling, he wasn’t hard to recognize. As a kid Matthew remembered him coming to the school with his horse and ropes, giving the kids rides and teaching them to rope. He was right out of a Western movie. The kids adored him.

      Matthew had forgotten that small aspect of his childhood. He used to dote on Pete, wanted to be a cowboy just like him. He guessed every little boy had that dream, but he’d outgrown it, as most of them had.

      Harry said something to Pete, who looked toward the house. Swiftly, his long strides brought him closer. He was still an impressive figure, and Matthew felt a stirring of admiration, just like that little boy of long ago.

      Matthew got to his feet and shook Pete’s outstretched hand. He felt the calluses and the strength that epitomized Pete Watson. After explaining his reason for being there, he added, “Maybe you can help me encourage Miss Doe to take the offer.”

      Pete removed his worn hat and studied it a moment before answering in the deep baritone Matthew remembered. “C.J. makes up her own mind.”

      Matthew glanced from one to the other, realizing Pete wasn’t going to be much help. “Look at this as a godsend. It’s the best solution for both parties.”

      “The land is not for sale,” C.J. said again in that stubborn voice.

      Matthew knew nothing he said was going to change her mind. But still, he had to try.

      “Miss Doe, let me make this very clear. To keep the land and the money, you’re going to have to face a court battle, and I can guarantee that you will lose. On the other hand, the million dollars is there for you free and clear, without strings. All you have to do is sign your name to a legal document.”

      “This isn’t about money or land, Mr. Sloan, Jr.,” she said, her eyes blazing with purpose. “It’s about an old lady who showed me a kindness no one except the Watsons ever offered me before. Until I know the reason behind her generous act, the land stays with me.”

      “You have your answer, Mr. Sloan,” Pete said.

      Matthew knew it was time to leave.

      “I’ll give you a couple of days to think it over. It’s a lot of money, and I don’t think you should turn it down without consideration.”

      “It’s not going to make any difference,” was her sharp response.

      “Son, I’m sorry about your dad,” Pete said. “Even though we were on opposite sides of the fence, I respected him.”

      Another sincere condolence. Matthew began to wonder if he was on the right side of the fence.

      “Thank you.” He nodded at C.J., “Like I said, it’s a good offer.” With those words he headed down the steps and back to his truck.

      C.J. GOT UP FROM THE SWING and stood by the railing. Her eyes followed Matthew’s lean figure. Beneath those expensive clothes was a superb well-muscled body. Some women might be attracted to that, but she wasn’t. Then why had she felt a weakness in her stomach when he’d looked at her? It was the uncanny resemblance to his father that made her so aware of him, she told herself. Yet he wasn’t like his father, not really. She had a feeling Mr. Sloan, Jr., could be quite ruthless when provoked. She’d do well to remember he was the enemy with a capital E.

      Pete sat down and took out his pipe and tobacco. He watched C.J. with a curious eye. “Mighty handsome young man,” he commented.

      C.J. whirled around. “I hadn’t noticed,” she said. The lie falling so easily from her lips startled her. She resumed her seat on the swing with a frown.

      “Really?” He lit his pipe with amusement and puffed on it a couple of times to get it started. “From the way you were staring at him, I’d say you noticed plenty.”

      The swing creaked at her agitated movements. “I was just thinking how much he looks like his father.”

      “Strong resemblance,” Pete conceded dryly. Smoke swirled around his face.

      “Yes, he’s handsome and I noticed,” she snapped, unable to lie to Pete for any length of time. “But he’s too citified,” she added. “I bet he couldn’t wait to get out of our sight to wipe the dust off those fancy boots.”

      Her words were flippant, but her emotions weren’t. She had stared at Matthew Sloan, Jr., and for the very reason Pete was insinuating. She was attracted to him. Okay, she admitted it. But she couldn’t allow herself to be attracted to any man, especially Matthew Sloan, Jr.

      He wanted her to take the money. She could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. The message was there—take the money and be happy. But happiness, for her, lay in finding the truth about her birth. That was the only thing that mattered to her. Having had loving parents, Matthew Sloan, Jr., wouldn’t understand that.

      “So, what do you think about the offer?” Pete asked.

      C.J. slung her dark hair over her shoulder. “The Townsends think I’ll take the money, but they don’t know me very well if they think it’s money I want.”

      THE NIGHT WRAPPED C.J. in a warm cocoon. She sat in the swing, her legs curled beneath her. Crickets chirped a deafening song. A wolf howled in the distance; several horses whinnied. Familiar sounds, but they were lost on C.J. Her thoughts were inward.

      She had expected various different responses from the Townsends, but a million dollars wasn’t among them. The offer still shook her. What would she do with all that money? She had no idea. There was only one thing she wanted: to find her parents. If Matthew Sloan, Jr., had said, “Release your claim on the land and money, and the Townsends will tell you about your parents,” she would have taken the offer in a heartbeat. She sat perfectly still as something occurred to her. “That’s it,” she said aloud.

      She stood up and walked to the railing, her face embracing the coolness of the night. “That’s it,” she said again. “That’s it.” A smile tugged at her lips. It was so simple. She intended to fight Matthew Sloan, Jr., every step of the way. The land and money gave her prestige, but it wasn’t prestige she wanted. It wasn’t money, either. She wanted an identity.

      C.J. had racked her brain so many times trying to find the reason behind Victoria’s gift. Now she thought she knew. The land gave her the power to force the truth. Victoria had known