Leroy chuckled. “Not as well as you do.”
Mitch aimed a glare in the man’s direction, causing him to raise his hands in surrender and stand. “I’m going. But I wouldn’t mind seeing her again. I might have to drop by the newspaper office and pick up my copy in person.”
“Do it quick. She’ll be gone before you know it.”
“I don’t know. There’s something different about that one. Mark my words.”
Mitch sincerely hoped not. His ego had already been trampled by one self-centered female. He sure as shooting wasn’t going to give the time of day to this one.
So why couldn’t he get her out of his mind?
Chapter 2
Hannah pushed through the door to the newspaper office, exhaling a deep breath. Her rapid departure from the jail had drained much of her irritation toward the sheriff. Aunt Polly looked up from the press when she entered.
“What happened to you? You look like you just lost your best friend.”
Hannah joined her, inhaling the familiar scents of ink and oil and metal and news-print. Any chance she had she would go to the printing room of her father’s paper just to smell the scent of news being made. She pulled the crumpled copy of the Chronicle she’d shoved into her pocket. “I went by the sheriff’s office to take him a copy of the paper.”
“And why would you do that?”
“I thought it might keep him apprised of the goings-on around here.”
Polly sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why don’t you speak it plain, Hannah? You’ve been itching to meet that man since you arrived in town. I just don’t know why, except for the fact that he’s too devilishly handsome for his own good.”
“I was just trying to be friendly. I want to meet everyone in town.” The look of skepticism on her aunt’s face remained. Might as well confess. “I wanted to meet the man who tamed this town and captured the Rankin gang.”
Polly shook her head. “You’re too much like your father. Is that why you begged to come here to stay with me, so you could write an article about him?”
“No. I just wanted to meet him. He captured my attention, that’s all.”
Polly raised her eyebrows. “Land’s sake girl, you have a fascination with that man. I’m shocked.”
Hannah hastened to explain. “Daddy printed an article about him last year, and I was intrigued. He seemed like a man worthy of the label hero. Now I’m not so sure.”
“Be careful who you label as hero. Mitch Kincaid is a decent, honorable, courageous man, but he’s no hero. No man is, Hannah, and as soon as you put a man up on that pedestal, you’ll be disappointed every time.”
“Are you saying he didn’t clean up Riverton and capture the outlaw gang?”
“He did as far as I know. I didn’t live here then. Your uncle Charles and I didn’t buy the paper and settle here until years later. After he died I took over and I always assumed that the tales about Mitch were more legend than actual truth.”
“Can you tell me why he isn’t campaigning? I see banners and handbills and bunting all over town for Willard Greenly but not a one for the sheriff. Did he get elected last time without any effort?”
“This is our first election. Mayor Danvers and his buddy Horace Cosgrove, who owns the bank, have convinced folks they need a more respectable image for their sheriff. Since the railroad came through last year, the town fathers have taken on some highfalutin ideas about how things should be done.”
“So Mitch, I mean the sheriff, could lose the election?”
“It’s likely. Cosgrove usually gets what he goes after. More’s the pity.”
“Then why won’t he campaign? He should be talking to people and giving speeches.”
Polly shrugged. “You’ve met him. Can you see him skipping around town kissing babies?”
Polly had a point. The sheriff wasn’t the type to try to charm people into voting for him. And most certainly not the type to sing his own praises. He was a no-nonsense, straight shooter. A fact that added to her admiration and appeal. She’d seen enough of the smooth, polished gentlemen back east, the kind who dressed to the latest fashion, dropped names, and made sure they were seen at all the right places with all the right people. A man who knew who he was and his place in the world was very attractive.
“What happens if the sheriff loses? What happens to the town then?”
“We’re not threatened by the outlaws on horseback anymore, or the rustlers or even the rowdy cattlemen coming into town. Our danger now is from the businessmen, the manipulators, and the ones bent on controlling the town’s future.”
“And you think the other candidate is in league with those kinds of men?”
“All I know is that there are a few men who became rich when the railroad came through. The banker holds a lot of mortgages. More than a town this size should have.”
“Maybe you should investigate. Surely there were laws broken. Can’t you have your reporter, what’s his name, Emmitt Jones, look into it?”
“The only thing Emmitt looks into is his whiskey glass at the Blue Bull Saloon.”
“Maybe I should look into it.”
Polly straightened and planted her fists on her hips. “I knew it. I knew you’d get around to asking me to let you be a reporter. No. It’s out of the question. I know it’s different back in Cincinnati.”
“Yes, it is. Women are working in offices and newspapers, and soon they’ll be able to work in any job a man can hold.”
“Good for them. But not here. Riverton is still very traditional. There is a clear place for women, and reporting the news isn’t one of them.”
Never one to take no for an answer, she pressed on. “What if I was discreet and used a nom de plume?”
“What makes you think you can find out things that a man can’t? This new breed of settlers are merchants; the town council has all but pushed out the original members. Its’ a very select group now and they rule the roost.”
“They may not talk to me, but I know who holds the secrets and knows the truth about everything that goes on.”
“Who?”
“The wives. What do you say? I’m new, asking questions won’t seem unusual for me. Maybe I can find out about how that banker got all his money. And if he did so legally or not.”
Polly held up her hand. “I’ll admit I’d like to get the scoop on Cosgrove. He’s a crook to his core. And the mayor isn’t much better. This slick lawman he’s brought in is cut from the same piece of cloth. They all have the smooth attitudes of con men if you ask me.”
“So I can look into this? See what I can find?”
“I’m going to regret this. Fine. But if you discover anything, I’ll hold you to our promise to use a pen name. No one will read it, let alone believe it, if it’s written by a woman.”
Hannah hid her gleeful smile. She intended to change that notion forever.
Two days later, Hannah gathered up the handbills she’d designed and waved at her aunt, eager to set her new plan in motion. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Hannah, I’m telling you this is a bad idea. The sheriff is not going to take kindly to your interference.”
“I’m not interfering; I’m helping. If he doesn’t put up some kind of notices, he could lose the election.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Hannah tried but couldn’t keep the smile from her face. A man like Mitch Kincaid was proud and fiercely independent. Not to mention stiff-necked. All he needed was someone to step up and do what he wouldn’t. Posters were the perfect solution for his campaign. He would be grateful for her initiative. And concern.
The sheriff’s office was empty when she walked in, dimming her enthusiasm. So much for her grand entrance. “Hello. Is anyone here?”
“Who’s that?”
Hannah gasped. She hadn’t expected anyone to answer. Cautiously she walked toward the door leading to the cells and peered around. A man sat on a cot staring back at her from behind the bar
s. She took a tentative step closer. Who was he? A hardened criminal? A killer? “I’m Hannah. I was looking for the sheriff.”
“He’s gone to get grub from Miss Mona’s place.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll wait then.”
“What ya got there?” The man rose on unsteady legs.
“Oh. Posters to help with his campaign for sheriff.”
“Good.” He nodded his approval. “He needs to remind people what he’s done for this town. He’s not good at tootin’ his own horn.”
“So I noticed.” She studied him a moment. “You have a high opinion of the man who put you in jail.”
“Oh, I’m not in jail. I’m just recuperatin’. Sometimes I get a little too inebriated, and then I forget to take care of myself. Every now and then Mitch will arrest me and bring me here where I can get a warm bed and a couple good meals.”
“I see. That’s very generous of him.”
“’Tis, it ’tis. But don’t go telling anyone. It’s our little secret. Most folks don’t want nothing to do with me since I lost everything. Mitch, he understands.”
“So how long are you here for?”
The man chuckled. “I can leave anytime I want.” He pushed against the bars and the door swung open slightly. I ain’t really locked up. But I ain’t leaving till I get my food.”
“Chester, Miss Mona sent you a real hearty breakfast this morning.”
Hannah spun around as Mitch came through the door carrying a large tray of deliciously smelling food coming from beneath the napkin-draped plate.
He glared then stepped past her, opening the cell and handing the tray to Chester.
“What are you doing here?”
Chester chuckled. “She’s come to help you, Sheriff.”
Mitch held her gaze a moment then walked back into the office. “I don’t need any help.”
“Not with your job. With your run for office.” She laid the stack of posters on his desk. “I made these up for you to put around town.”
Mitch didn’t even glance at the papers. With one swipe he shoved them into the trash bin beside his desk. “Good day, Miss Davis.”
Hannah sucked in a breath and let it out in a huff. “You had no call to do that. I came here to help in your campaign, and you won’t even look at the flyers.”
“I didn’t ask for your help.” He leaned over to retrieve the papers at the same moment she reached down, and their hands touched. Hannah was keenly aware of his nearness, the scent of leather and soap and the muscled forearm below his rolled-up shirtsleeve. She yanked her hand away and stepped back. Mitch pulled the papers from the bin and looked at them. His mouth settled into a thin line, his jaw twitched, and she could see the pulse in his neck throbbing rapidly. She held her breath. Was he going to shout at her? Arrest her?
Slowly he handed the small stack of flyers back to her. “I’m only going to say this once. I don’t need your help. I’m not campaigning, and I don’t have time to waste on women who think they know how I should run my life.” He turned his attention to his desk dismissing her.
“Do you not understand that you could lose this election if you don’t do something?”
“The folks of Riverton know who I am and what I’ve done. If they want me as their sheriff, they’ll vote me in.”
“Not if Willard Greenly has anything to say about it. He’s out there charming everyone, making promises and kissing babies while you’re in here doing nothing. I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to. If you don’t like things here, you know where the ticket office is. There’s a train leaving tomorrow morning.”
Furious, Hannah huffed out a breath and whirled around. Of all the insufferable, hard, unfeeling men she’d ever met. And to think she came all this way to meet her hero. Ha. Nothing heroic about him, just a dull-witted country sheriff who couldn’t see beyond his dreary office.
She grasped the door handle, stopping when the sheriff called her name.
“Shut the door this time.”
She tossed a glare and an insincere smile over her shoulder then stepped out and slammed the door behind her. So much for her romantic fantasies about the great Mitch Kincaid. She was a fool to come all this way on a whim. But she wasn’t about to go back to Cincinnati. Aunt Polly had given her permission to investigate some of the goings-on around town. This was her chance to be a reporter and show everyone what a woman could do.
Chester’s words surfaced. Would a hard, unfeeling man look out for one of the town’s less fortunate? Sheriff Kincaid was a contradiction, and she wasn’t sure she liked that.
Mitch leaned back in his chair rubbing his chin. The woman was becoming a burr under his saddle, and he had no idea how to chase her off. He doubted he’d done anything just now to discourage her. He’d seen the determination bloom in her green eyes. Eyes the color of spring grass shaded with long thick lashes. Her silky hair was hanging down her back today, and he’d found himself wondering if it felt as soft as it looked.
The woman was churning up feelings he hadn’t felt in a long time, and he didn’t like it one bit.
“Sheriff, thanks for the meal and the bed.” Chester set the dinner tray on the edge of the desk. “I’m feeling better now.”
“Good to hear. You still helping out at the livery stable?”
He shrugged. “When I’m able.”
Mitch knew he meant when he was sober. “Miss Edna is looking for someone to whitewash the fence around her place. If you’re interested.”
“Sure. I can do that.”
Mitch stood and retrieved the man’s hat from the rack. “Try and keep some of the money this time, okay?”
Chester nodded. “I will. I appreciate your kindness.”
Mitch waved off the gratitude, watching with affection as the older man sauntered toward the door. He’d been a stand-up citizen once, until he’d lost his farm and his family. Now he worked odd jobs and spent the money on drink, sleeping in the alleys and empty sheds. The least Mitch could do was see he got a hot meal and a clean bed every now and then.
Chester turned back at the door. “You know, you shouldn’t be so hard on that a little gal. She’s got a good heart. She wants to help people. My Mary was like that. She just couldn’t help herself when she saw people in need. She had to jump in and lend a hand. That’s a special thing. Not to be brushed aside.”
“You may be right, Chester, but I doubt Miss Davis will be in town long enough to help anyone.”
Chester grinned and pointed a bony finger. “I think you’re in for a surprise. That filly is a champion. You mark my words.”
As much as Mitch hated to admit it, the man might be right. Most women would have stayed away after the initial meeting. Miss Davis had returned. In her overly frilly gown and her hair curled and arranged to perfection. Typical Eastern female.
He stood and moved to the window, staring out at his town. But she wasn’t like Lydia. Nothing like her, with her soft voice and her liquid eyes, and her mouth that could speak so sweetly every lie that flowed from her lips.
He’d learned his lesson the hard way. She’d ripped his heart open and left him exposed for everyone to see and laugh at. No. No more Eastern girls for him. Pivoting, he went back to work, but the image of fiery green eyes lingered in his mind.
Hannah laid the flyers on the worktable at the newspaper before going to the small office in the back. Aunt Polly was working on her editorial. She looked up and frowned.
“What is it? Oh, let me guess. This is where I say I told you so.”
“Yes.” Hannah shook off the last of her irritation. The reality of the sheriff had shattered much of her fascination with the cranky but oh, so handsome man. “I’m fine. I thought I’d start looking into things around town.”
“Playing reporter you mean.” She held out an envelope. “This came for you.”
Hannah took the pale blue paper and scanned her name written in flowing calligraphy. “Who’s it from? Who’s Florence Cosgrove?”
“Yes. I remember.” Slipping the card from the envelope, she read the invitation then glanced at her aunt. “I’ve been invited to her home this Friday for afternoon tea and to meet some of the ladies of the town.”
“I’m not surprised. I’ve been hounded with questions about you since you got here. Now you can answer them yourself.”
Hannah tapped the card against her fingertips. “More importantly, this is my opening to do some investigating.”
Polly sighed. “Don’t get carried away. If you ask too many questions, these ladies will shut you out.”
“I know. But I have a plan for that, too.” Hannah gathered her determination. Just because one plan hadn’t worked out didn’t mean the next one wouldn’t. She knew exactly how to win over the ladies of Riverton.
Chapter 3
Mitch strolled the boardwalk Friday afternoon, keeping his attention tuned to anything unusual or out of place. He was a firm believer in making his presence known. His twice daily strolls through town let people know he was on the job and made them feel safe and secure. The town was growing though, and the walks were taking longer than they used to. In the year since the railroad had come through, new businesses had popped up like gopher holes. Attitudes were shifting as well. The new arrivals weren’t as easygoing, and they demanded he keep a close eye on their stores. Many of them were starting to complain about the saloon and Miss Beulah’s.
Applause drew his attention to a small crowd in front of the Hallmark Hotel across the street. Greenly was giving another speech. The man had a smooth tongue and an easy manner that many took at face value as sincerity. Mitch had another name for it. Snake oil.
“It’s time we made the name Riverton synonymous with respectability. The railroad has opened the way for great prosperity, and we want to be seen as a town where families can settle without fear of renegades and saddle bums shooting up the streets.” His gaze landed on Mitch, and a slow smile shifted his features. “There was a time when the town needed a common gunfighter as sheriff, when appointing a fast gun and a hard fist was the only way to maintain peace. Those days are gone. We need someone who can deal with problems in a civilized manner, a man who knows the written law and will enforce it. Not a glorified bounty hunter who chases rewards and leaves the town unprotected.”
The Secret Admirer Romance Collection Page 8
