AN INNOCENT MAN

by Margaret Watson

  Suddenly he rolled over, taking her with him. She opened her eyes and looked into his bright blue ones. He was staring at her with tenderness and what might have been wonder, and she snuggled into the hollow of his shoulder with a little smile on her face. Apparently he'd been just as jolted as she by their lovemaking.

  As if he'd read her mind and needed to deny it, his arms tightened around her then lifted her away. "Don't you want to hear what I found out in Glenwood Springs today?"

  "I thought we were taking care of the important things first," she murmured, skimming her hand down his chest.

  Grabbing her hand before she could dip below his waist, he tangled his fingers with hers and brought their joined hands to his mouth. "Absolutely. And I hope all the important things were taken care of to your satisfaction."

  He raised up on one elbow to look at her, and she felt the hot color flood her cheeks. It was one thing to be bold and mouthy in the darkness. It was quite another to say those sexy things to him while he watched her.

  "You know they were." She had to force herself to look at him while she answered. Then she closed her eyes as she cuddled against him. "Tell me about Glenwood Springs."

  He hesitated for a minute, his arms tightening around her. Finally he said gently, "Your uncle is in a lot of trouble, Sarah. Maybe your cousin, too. That pond up at the top of the mountain is an illegal heap-leaching operation, and the EPA is going to be all over them like a cheap suit."

  Leaning away from him, she looked at his grim face and frowned. "What's heap leaching?"

  "It's a way of removing very small amounts of gold from large amounts of rock. Remember how Richard went ballistic when I asked him why there weren't any piles of rocks at the mine? It was because they'd hauled them up to the top of the mountain to leach out the tiny bits of gold left in them."

  She sat up slowly, pushing her hair out of her face. "I don't understand. Why is heap leaching illegal? And what does the EPA have to do with it?"

  "Heap leaching itself isn't illegal. But the process is tricky, and the chemicals it uses are very dangerous. They have to get permits, file environmental impact statements, and it's regulated by the EPA. Your uncle hasn't done any of that. He's just gone ahead and set up his own operation, trying to save some money by avoiding the regulations and inspections that are necessary."

  She stared at him, dread coiling in her gut. "What has he done?"

  Connor sat up and pulled her to him, holding her against his heart. "The main chemical used in the operation is cyanide." He eased her away from him and watched her face. "You know how dangerous that is."

  She nodded, fear clutching her chest. All she could do was hold onto him more tightly.

  "The first time I was up on the mountain, the time someone used my head for batting practice, I noticed that there were no fish in the stream. There wasn't anything in that stream besides water. No plants, no bugs, nothing."

  He pulled her close again and continued, "They diverted the stream to make their leaching pool. Apparently they weren't careful enough, because some of the cyanide they put in the pool must have gotten into the stream and killed off everything there."

  "What about our drinking water?" she asked, pulling away from him and staring, appalled. "Are we all drinking cyanide?"

  "I hope not," he said grimly. "But the EPA will find out quickly enough."

  "And you think that's how your father died." It wasn't a question, and he nodded.

  "Cyanide poisoning can mimic a heart attack, and I think that's just what happened to my father. Since only a few people knew what really happened, it would be easy enough to cover it up."

  "Is there any way you can prove it?"

  "I doubt it, after so many years." He smoothed his hand down her hair, and she felt the tension running through his body. "I don't think it was deliberate, anyway. The last thing the Wesleys would want to do is call attention to what they were doing."

  "But they killed your father," she cried. "You can't let that go unpunished."

  "It's my word against theirs," he answered, and she heard the futility in his voice. "After eighteen years, nobody is going to get real excited about the death of an immigrant no one in this town had any use for, anyway."

  "You're wrong, Connor." She spoke with absolute conviction. "If that's what happened, my uncle should be punished. Surely someone will be interested."

  "We'll see." His voice was carefully neutral, but she heard the bitterness beneath his words. "Right now, the most important thing is stopping the leaching and getting the cyanide cleaned up."

  He pulled her down onto the bed and drew the covers over them. Snuggling into him, wrapping her arms around him, she ached to take away some of his pain. "What are you going to do now?"

  "I talked to the EPA yesterday in Glenwood Springs. Tomorrow I'm going to pay a visit to your uncle."

  She shot upright in the bed. "You don't have to talk to him again. Let the EPA take care of him."

  She heard his sigh in the darkness. "The EPA is part of the government. They're pretty good when it comes to an emergency, but it may take them awhile to get to Pine Butte. I want to make sure that heap-leaching operation stops tomorrow." He leaned against the headboard, and she felt his smile. "And besides, I'm human enough to want to be the one to tell old Ralph that his little game is up."

  "Please, Connor, let it be," she begged. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

  He laughed. "Your uncle is an old man, honey. There's nothing he can do to me."

  "What about Richard? It'll be two against one."

  "Whatever else they are, the Wesleys aren't stupid," he said gently. "They would gain nothing by hurting me. I'll be fine."

  She stared at him for a moment and a chill shivered up her spine. "I hope you're right," she said softly.

  Sliding down into the bed, she curled around him and held him next to her. She felt him relax as he fell asleep, but she lay staring out the window for a long time.

  * * *

  When the alarm clock trilled the next morning Sarah groaned and burrowed deeper into her pillow. She was sore and stiff, just what she'd expect after spending the last hours laying rigidly in bed, too worried to fall asleep. She couldn't face the morning yet.

  Connor stirred next to her, and the alarm was suddenly silent. Even without looking she could feel him watching her. After a long moment he reached over and cupped his hand around the back of her neck.

  "I didn't realize I'd tired you out so much last night."

  His voice was warm and laughing, and she raised her head with a groan. "I hate people who are cheerful first thing in the morning, MacCormac. You might as well know that right now."

  Grinning, he reached over and kissed her, then stood up. "And here I thought you were little Mary Sunshine in the morning."

  "Not after a week of sleepless nights, I'm not." Pushing the hair off her face, she sat up in bed. Belatedly realizing she was naked, she snatched the sheet to cover herself.

  Connor sat on the bed and ran his hand lightly down her back. "I bet I know a way to brighten your outlook on life."

  She smiled in spite of herself. "You'd be a miracle worker, then."

  His eyes darkened and he leaned closer. "Is that a dare? I can never resist a dare."

  He'd just pulled her to him when the telephone rang. With a snarl of frustration, she broke away from Connor and picked up the receiver. "Hello." This better be good, she fumed to herself.

  "Sarah?" The voice was high-pitched and unmistakable, the whine just below the surface. "This is Melanie." Her cousin Richard's wife. Trust a Wesley to have such impeccable timing.

  "Hello, Melanie. What can I do for you?"

  "I want to know what is going on, Sarah. Since that … that person is staying with you, I assume you will be able to tell me."

  Her hand tightened on the phone. "What do you mean?" she asked carefully.

  "I want to know why Richard's father called at such an ungodly hour this morning and s
cared Richard so much. I want to know why he had to go running off to that mine just now without explaining anything to me." Her voice rose until she was screeching over the phone. "I want to know what's been going on in Pine Butte ever since that MacCormac boy came back to town."

  Sarah held the phone away from her ear. "If Richard is upset about something, I have no idea why you should think I would know anything about it." Her voice was low and deadly. "You know I have nothing to do with the mine. Why didn't you ask your husband?"

  "He won't tell me a thing," she complained, the familiar whine of discontent in her voice.

  "I'm sorry, Melanie, I don't know what to tell you. I guess you'll just have to wait for Richard to get home."

  After listening to her cousin's wife complain for a while longer, she gently interrupted. "I have to go now, Melanie. I'll talk to you some other time."

  Hanging up the receiver, she turned to look at Connor, a rueful expression on her face. "I guess I don't even have the luxury of sulking this morning. That delightful conversation was with Richard's wife. It seems that Uncle Ralph called him early this morning and said something that got Richard all worked up. He took off for the mine in a dither."

  Connor jumped off the bed and reached for his clothes. "Then I'm going out there, too. If I know the Wesleys, they're out there trying to destroy any evidence they can. I may not be able to nail them for killing my father, but I sure as hell can nail them for what they're doing to the environment."

  Sarah yanked open a drawer and pulled out a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt. "I'm coming with you."

  "Sarah—"

  "Don't bother," she interrupted. She whirled on him fiercely. "If you're going to take risks for this town, I'm going to be with you."

  "You don't get it, do you, Sarah? It's not for the town, it's for me. This is the only way I can get any small measure of revenge for my father. Hell, if it was just the cyanide, they could pour gallons right into the town reservoir and I wouldn't care. No, this is the only way I can make your uncle and cousin pay, and pay they will. So don't go getting all misty-eyed about my good intentions."

  He stood in the doorway, his face set and his eyes hard. If she didn't know him so well she might actually believe him. He wanted her to think he was a selfish bastard, interested only in his own revenge. She knew better. Beneath the hard shell around his heart, he cared about this town and he cared about her. She had to believe that.

  "I'm still coming with you," she said firmly. "If you don't let me ride with you, I'll just follow in my truck."

  He shook his head. "You are one stubborn woman, Sarah Wesley." His eyes softened as he looked at her. "All right, I'd rather have you with me than in that truck by yourself."

  Jamming on her shoes, she ran down the stairs after him. Just as she reached the bottom she heard a frantic pounding on the front door of the clinic.

  She stopped, staring at the door with panic and fear. What had happened? Had there been a confrontation out at the mine already? Had somebody had another accident, trying to cover up what had been going on?

  She looked at Connor and he looked back. Finally nodding, he said, "Go ahead. I'll wait."

  She rushed to open the door and found Tom Johnson and his wife, Mary, standing there. Mary had one arm wrapped around her abdomen and was leaning against her husband.

  "We got a problem, Sarah," Tom said.

  * * *

  Chapter 15

  «^»

  Mary's gray face was sheened with sweat. Dread stirred in the pit of Sarah's stomach as she drew the couple into the clinic.

  "What's wrong?"

  "My water broke a couple of hours ago," Mary answered, her voice high-pitched with fear and panic. "The contractions are getting worse now."

  "Why aren't you in Glenwood Springs?" Sarah cried, urging them toward an exam room.

  "My mother got here last night. We were going to go today." Mary sounded defensive, and Sarah told herself to calm down. She'd be no help to Mary if she panicked, too.

  "Maybe everything's all right," Sarah soothed. "Let's take a look."

  Helping Mary onto an exam table, she wrapped the blood pressure cuff around the pregnant woman's arm. Pumping up the little bulb, she felt her heart plunge when she saw the reading. She unwrapped the cuff slowly, waiting until she could speak without her voice giving away her fear.

  "Your pressure is too high, Mary. We're going to have to get the evacuation helicopter in from Glenwood."

  Mary's gray face became even paler. "Will they be able to get here in time?" she whispered.

  Sarah would have given anything to be able to tell her friend that everything would be all right. But she couldn't lie to her. "I don't know, Mary. I hope so. I'll do everything I can until the helicopter gets here."

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Connor standing in the waiting room, watching the three of them. Walking slowly out of the exam room, she shoved her hands in her pockets to hide their trembling.

  "Mary's in labor, and her blood pressure is way too high." Her voice cracked with strain. "I'm going to get the evacuation helicopter in here, but it may take a while. You go ahead. There's no way I can go with you."

  An odd look flickered across his face, a mixture of apology and regret. "Maybe I can help, Sarah." He paused, and she thought he flushed slightly. "I'm a doctor."

  She felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach. Shocked, she could only stare at him.

  "You're a doctor?" she finally repeated numbly.

  He nodded. "I'm in a family practice in Denver. I've delivered my share of babies, and I can do a Caesarean if it's necessary."

  His gaze shifted past her to the woman who waited in the exam room, and Sarah felt her heart begin to crack. He was a doctor. One of the most vital parts of his life, and he hadn't wanted to share it with her. The only reason he had mentioned it now was that he couldn't stand by and endanger two lives. It would be against his Hippocratic oath, she thought bitterly.

  Turning away from him, she gestured toward the couple in the other room. "I'm sure they would appreciate your help. I don't think Mary can wait until the helicopter gets here."

  She turned to go to the exam room, not looking to see if Connor followed. When she felt his hand on her shoulder, she stopped abruptly.

  "Sarah, I'm sorry." His low voice was pitched to reach her ears only, and she could almost fool herself into thinking it was filled with regret.

  She spun around and faced him, determined not to let him see the hurt. "Why are you sorry?" she demanded. "A doctor is just what Mary needs right now. In fact, a person could almost say you were the answer to a prayer." She didn't even try to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

  "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier."

  "You never made any promises to me, Connor," she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. "Right from the start, you warned me how it was going to be. You never gave me the right to expect anything more from you." She would never let him see that she had expected it anyway. She couldn't bear it if he knew what kind of fool she'd been.

  "Sarah," he began, but Mary's small cry, quickly smothered, jerked his attention to the urgency of the situation. "We don't have time to talk about this now," he muttered, taking a step toward the exam room. "Why don't you ask her if she wants me to examine her?"

  Hearing an unfamiliar note in his voice, she finally looked at him. Realization struck like a thunderbolt as she stared at the tense planes of his face. He was scared. Could he possibly be worried that Mary wouldn't want him to examine her? Could he really think that the townspeople still hated him so much they would refuse his help?

  In spite of the pain that was tearing her apart inside, she wanted to reach out to him, to reassure him that his help would be more than welcomed. Her bruised heart ached for him, for the pain and hurt he had suffered as a child. Clenching her hands into fists to prevent her from making a fool of herself, she nodded.

  Without a backward glance, she strode to the room wh
ere Mary sat on the exam table, leaning against her husband. Taking Mary's hand, she squatted next to her.

  "Mary, Connor is a doctor. Would you like him to examine you and see if he can help you?"

  Both Tom and Mary looked toward Connor, startled. Then, slowly, hope replaced the sick fear on their faces. "A doctor!" Mary stared at him as if he was her salvation. "Does he think he can do anything?"

  "He doesn't know. He'll have to examine you first." Taking a deep breath, she added, "He's in family practice, so he's delivered lots of babies. But it's up to you."

  Mary looked at Sarah with confusion. "Why wouldn't I want his help?"

  "I can't think of a single reason." Looking up, she called, "Connor? Could you come take a look at Mary?"

  He strode into the room and took Mary's hand. "I'll need to know how dilated you are. Do you understand what I'll have to do?"

  Mary looked even more confused. "Of course I do. Why are you asking?"

  Connor stood by the exam table, holding Mary's hand, and something shifted in his face. The bitterness she'd seen when he'd talked about Pine Butte, the anger and remembered pain from his childhood, all of it slipped away. All she saw now was compassion for the woman in front of him, and a fierce determination.

  "All right, then. Johnson, you'll need to help your wife. This can be painful." He got everything ready, then waited until a contraction passed and examined her gently.

  Standing up straight, he stripped off the rubber gloves and watched the woman in front of him. "Sarah, call the helicopter," he said without looking at her.

  Taking Mary's hand, he waited until Sarah had tersely ordered the helicopter to get there as soon as possible, then said, "I don't think you can wait until the helicopter gets you to Glenwood Springs and the hospital. You're going to have this baby too damned soon, and your blood pressure is already far too high."