by Sheryl Lynn
The Colonel assumed parade rest position, feet spread at shoulder width, his hands locked behind his back. He glared down his nose at Kara. She flinched, grabbed the other desk clerk’s arm, and the pair hurried back to their station.
“I am Colonel Horace Duke, the proprietor of this post,” he announced. He looked between Tristan, his daughters and the ladies in purple. “Brief me on the status of this situation.”
Janine splayed her hands in presentation. “Look who’s decided to grace us with his presence, sir. It’s Bradley Carter, also known as Quentin Bayliss. He’s using Meg to get even with us for what Ross and Dawn did to him.”
Megan hooked her arm with Tristan’s. “She’s nuts.”
“No! This is Nicky Alonza.” Daniella clasped the base of her throat in a dramatic gesture. She groped spasmodically in the air with the other hand until a companion grasped it and held it in a comforting manner. “This man is a thief! He stole from me, my family and my fortune. He left me brokenhearted and alone. I swore to God above that if I ever found him again—” she slashed a finger across her own throat “—he is a dead man!”
“That’s enough, lady! It’s a case of mistaken ident—”
Janine shoved to the fore. “Look at him, sir. He’s dyed his hair and lost weight, but it’s him. He’s come back.”
The Colonel squinted at Tristan, then shook his head. “The miscreant in question is currently incarcerated in a federal prison in California. San Quentin, I believe.”
“No! California, no!” Daniella cried. “Twenty years ago he stole my heart and my fortune. He is a thief. This is Nicky Alonza!”
Megan groaned and rolled her eyes heavenward. The situation with Bradley Carter last year had been a nightmare. The con artist had married Dawn Lovell here at Elk River, then absconded with all her money, but not before involving Megan’s brother, Ross. Dawn and Ross had found Carter, but nearly gotten themselves killed in the process. Everything had ended well, though, when Carter went to prison, and Dawn and Ross were married.
Megan balled her right hand into a fist and showed it to her sister. “Ross would have told us if that guy got out of prison. Don’t forget, Carter’s still wanted by the law in Colorado. He’d never come back here.”
“My office.” The Colonel executed an abrupt about-face and marched back the way he’d come.
Vindicated, Megan grinned at her sister. Who was Little Miss Perfect now? “Come on, Tristan. Somebody owes you a big apology.”
“I will not inhabit the same place as that thief!” Daniella loosed a wail and her companions helped her into the lounge and onto a chair. They fanned her face and called for water. Janine crouched next to the chair and spoke in low tones to the woman.
Megan thought they were all twits.
William stared in fascination at the milling purple crowd. Tristan grabbed his son’s shoulder. “Don’t gawk, boy.”
Once out of the lobby, Tristan blew a long breath. He lifted his hat and smoothed his hair with a slow swipe of his hand. As he passed a mirror hanging on a wall, he glanced suspiciously at his own face. “Who is this Quentin Bradley?”
“Bradley Carter. Quentin Bayliss is the name he used to con my sister-in-law. Actually, he used lots of different names. He had about a hundred aliases. I guess Nicky Alonza is one of them.”
“And he’s in prison because you testified.”
“My family gave depositions, but we never went to court. The FBI got Carter before the State of Colorado did.” Megan sensed her explanation was confusing Tristan. “See, Carter said he was Quentin Bayliss, but that’s a fake name. He used my brother, Ross, to help him rip off Dawn. She’s really rich. Only Ross didn’t know Carter was a con man until after the wedding when he ended up in Dawn’s bed and everyone thought he and Dawn were having an affair. But they weren’t, even though they did get married.”
Tristan’s mouth fell open and his eyebrows rose. Megan guessed she wasn’t doing the story justice. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”
“And you look like a crook, Dad?” William said. “This vacation might turn out okay, after all. Wait’ll I tell the guys back home.”
Megan had met the con artist only once, a brief encounter while she helped work the reception after his wedding to Dawn. She recalled a big man, like Tristan, but flabby, unlike Tristan. She still failed to see any resemblance. “They say everyone has a double somewhere. Looks like we know who yours is.” She smiled wanly at her own joke.
He eyed her uncertainly. “Always thought I looked one-of-a-kind.”
William snickered. “Granddad says you’re a throwback and don’t look like nobody in the family. Maybe that crook is your long-lost brother, Dad.”
Tristan opened his mouth, but the teenager beat him to the punch line. “Hush, son,” he mocked, and laughed.
Megan reached the door to her father’s office. It was closed, not a good sign. The Colonel only closed the door when he was angry. Janine deserved his anger, but after the scene at breakfast, chances were the Colonel was still angry with Megan. Or maybe he believed Tristan was Carter. She saw her grand romance spiraling out of control, crashing and burning before it even got off the ground.
Forcing her shaking hand into a fist, she knocked on the door. From within, the Colonel called for entry.
“Wait here in the hallway, son,” Tristan said.
“I’m hungry.”
“You won’t die.” He followed Megan into the office.
Her father sat behind his desk. Back straight, posture perfect, with both hands resting atop the desk, he gazed unsmiling at the pair as they entered. Megan swallowed hard, and her voice quavered as she made the introduction.
Tristan extended a hand over the desk. The Colonel stood and shook hands, then invited them both to sit. Tristan held his hat on his lap.
“Colonel,” Megan said, “this is all Janine’s doing. She’s got the guests all worked up by making crazy accusations. Tristan is Tristan. He isn’t a criminal. He doesn’t even look like Bradley Carter.”
Shifting, Tristan pulled out a wallet made of the same russet leather with which he’d made her purse.
If nothing else, the wallet proved he wasn’t the con artist who’d spent all his time scheming, not creating beautiful leather goods.
He extracted a driver’s license, credit cards, bank cards and several cards Megan couldn’t identify from where she sat, and placed them on her father’s desk. “I don’t know about this Bradley Carter, sir. I never heard of him. This is me, Tristan Cayle.”
“The young man accompanying you is your son.”
“Yes, sir.”
“From Wyoming.” He sorted through the identification. “You’re a cattle rancher.”
“Some cattle, sir, but mostly horses now.”
The Colonel laid a card back on the desk. Megan noted it was a public library card. “This is a most unusual situation.”
“It’s mistaken identity, sir,” Megan said. She hated herself for even those momentary doubts. Even though they’d met only today, she felt she knew Tristan as well as she knew anyone. He was honest and caring and kind, and he didn’t deserve all this idiocy. “I really don’t see why Janine is all bent out of shape, since Tristan doesn’t even look like Carter.”
“And the other woman?”
Megan shrugged. “She’s nuts. I don’t know what her problem is.”
The Colonel studied the driver’s license before shifting a cold, steady gaze onto Tristan. “It was only this morning at the breakfast formation when she informed her mother and me of your existence. Is this your usual behavior, Mr. Cayle? Marrying young women you’ve never met?”
Blindsided, Megan gasped and clutched the arms of the chair. No wonder Kara went through the agonies of the damned whenever a young man picked her up for a date.
“No, sir,” Tristan said calmly, his eyelids lowered like shutters. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Megan and I get along like a mule team long-distance. We’re fixing to see wh
at happens up close.”
“She stated you were getting married.”
The twitch was the beginnings of a smile. “Haven’t asked her out on the first date yet, sir.”
Her humiliation complete, Megan slumped and rested her chin on her fist. Her life was ruined—she may as well run away to join the circus. She pictured herself gaining fame as the silent, brokenhearted mystery woman, mucking up after the elephants while speaking to no one of her tragic past.
“I am fond of Megan, sir,” Tristan continued in the same mild way. “If we do get serious, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know.”
It just wasn’t fair. Every time she’d wanted something body and soul, fate had intervened, shooting her down. The gold in the Olympics, a glorious career in the military, both dreams turned into dust because of crumbly kneecaps. Now this? She had to miss out on the love of a lifetime because of her loudmouthed sister and impossible father?
The Colonel’s eyes narrowed, and a muscle twitched in his cheek. His right index finger bounced silently on the desktop.
The tension between the two men seeped into Megan’s awareness. Tristan was dead calm; her father appeared to swell, reminding Megan of how he used to get around her brother when the Colonel wanted to intimidate his son, but Ross refused to be intimidated.
As much as she loved her father, she knew well his bullying tendencies. Tristan, apparently, refused to be bullied.
She plucked imaginary lint off her skirt and cleared her throat. “The real problem is Janine, sir.” Realizing her posture must appear sullen, she straightened on the chair and folded her hands neatly on her lap. “I invited Tristan as my guest, and I don’t appreciate the way she is treating him.”
“I will speak to Janine.” He gathered all the identification cards into a pile and cracked them sharply against the desktop before handing them back to Tristan. “As for you, Mr. Cayle, I extend my personal apologies on behalf of the resort.”
“Janine owes him an apology.” Megan faced her father with her most grown-up expression. “He is a paying guest, after all.”
“I will speak to her.” The Colonel rose, indicating this matter was finished. “Welcome to Elk River, Mr. Cayle. I hope you will enjoy your stay and not allow this incident to reflect poorly on our hospitality.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Sharp rapping on the door preceded Janine bursting into the office. Head high, shoulders rigid, she looked even more agitated than before. “Have you called the sheriff?”
Megan grasped Tristan’s hand, standing between him and her gone-nuts sister. “See you at lunch, Colonel.”
“Wait a minute!” Janine sputtered, looking ready to grab Tristan and force him to stay.
Megan hustled her friend out of the office and pulled the door closed behind her. She caught Janine saying, “Are you crazy? You can’t let him fool you. Don’t you see what he’s doing? He’s using Meg to get even with us because of what Ross did—” Megan shut the door with a soft thunk.
“Kind of reminds me of my brother Roland,” Tristan said, eying the office door with bemused concern. “Excitable.”
William pushed away from the wall he’d been slouched against. “Can we eat now?”
Wishing now she hadn’t arranged to have lunch with her parents, Megan led the way to the family dining room. If she were really lucky Janine would stay in a snit and refuse to join them.
The dining room was empty, but the long wooden table had been set for six. Crockery bowls were filled with arrangements of irises, tulips and daffodils from Elise’s garden. Pitchers of ice water and iced tea gleamed with silver sweat; baskets of freshly baked rolls were covered with napkins.
Megan nervously eyed the doorway. Her father always did everything by the book with military precision and meticulous attention to detail. If he believed Tristan was truly Bradley Carter, then he would have kept Tristan in the office. She hoped his actions meant he understood the truth and the matter was closed.
Catching Tristan’s small smile, she stiffened. She hoped he hadn’t noticed her outcry about him having a wife, but feared the smile meant he’d caught it.
A montage of photographs on one wall drew William. The centerpiece was a large color portrait of the Colonel mounted atop a bay stallion. Garbed in full cavalry regalia and saluting with a saber, the Colonel looked fiercely magnificent. It was Megan’s favorite photograph; she carried a copy in her wallet.
“Is this your grandfather?” William asked.
“My father. He was a cavalry officer.”
“Dang. How old is he?”
Megan laughed. “That isn’t from the Civil War or anything. His last command was the mounted color guard at Fort Carson. They do parades and rodeos and stuff. It’s a cool uniform.”
“Is that a real sword?” He gestured at his father. “Check it out, Dad.”
“It’s a saber, actually. Ask him about it, William. I’m sure he’ll show it to you. He loves talking about the army.” She pointed to a photograph of her father dressed in full battle dress complete with helmet and sidearm. “This is a modern cav uniform.”
“Is that a tank?”
“Bradley fighting vehicle.” Bradley. She winced at the reminder.
Tristan settled a companionable hand on her shoulder, much relieving her guilty conscience. She vowed to never, ever doubt him again about anything.
“I want to join the army and drive a tank,” William said, nodding eagerly. “Or fly a helicopter.” He clenched his fists before him and made rat-a-tat-tat shooting noises.
“I wanted to join the army, too. But they wouldn’t take me.”
William cocked an eyebrow. “’Cause you’re a girl?”
“No, because I wrecked my knees. A lot of women are in the military. They do really well, too.”
“Do they drive tanks? Fly helicopters?”
“They don’t drive tanks, but there are quite a few female pilots.” She focused a frown on Tristan, who pulled at his chin and grinned. She hoped it was embarrassment about his son’s sexism and not amusement.
“Hello,” Elise Duke said from the doorway.
The three of them turned toward her. In unison Tristan and William straightened their shoulders and finger-combed their hair. Elise nodded graciously in greeting.
“You must be Tristan Cayle, and young William. I’m Elise Duke. Welcome to Elk River.” Elise peered closely at Tristan’s face. “Oh, dear, I can see why Janine is so upset. You do resemble that awful man.”
“No, he doesn’t, Mom! Is Janine still carrying on?” Megan entwined a possessive hand around Tristan’s. “Didn’t the Colonel straighten her out? This isn’t Bradley Carter, honest.”
“I’m afraid Janine isn’t the problem, dear.” She smiled, but her mouth trembled. “It’s Miss Falconetti. She is threatening to cancel her entire booking unless we have Mr. Cayle arrested.”
“This is stupid.”
“Janine is calling the sheriff.”
William lost his cocky smile and swagger. He placed a tentative hand on his father’s arm. “Are they gonna lock you up, Dad?”
“Nobody is locking anybody up.” Megan closed her eyes, shaking inwardly with building fury. Janine had gone way too far this time, and if Megan didn’t do something fast, Tristan would end up on the next available flight back to Wyoming.
Chapter Five
It took only fifteen minutes from the time Janine spoke to the sheriff to when he called back with the news. Fifteen minutes of fidgeting, worrying and wondering for Megan. Standing in a corner of her father’s office, praying Tristan would still be in the dining room when she returned, she knew the situation was utterly absurd. Even if Bradley Carter had somehow escaped from prison, no way would he come back to Elk River where he’d victimized so many people.
Janine, as usual, had made up her mind and held fast to it. She was convinced Tristan was the con artist, and that, as far as Megan’s older sister was concerned, was that. She wouldn’t be satisfied until e
veryone acknowledged she was right
No wonder she’s never gotten married, Megan thought darkly. Not even their father could stand up to Janine’s maddening hardheadedness.
“I can’t believe you’re acting like this,” Megan muttered. “It’s embarrassing.”
Seated on the Colonel’s chair behind the desk, Janine’s face was an ice sculpture. “I’m not the one picking up criminals on the Internet.”
“Stop bickering,” the Colonel said, his voice sharp with warning.
A warning Janine ignored. “This is exactly how he operates. Find a woman, tell her exactly what she wants to hear, then move in for the kill. You have pulled some idiotic stunts, Meg, but this is the worst ever.”
“I love him!”
“I love him,” Janine mocked. “The last words of every nitwit who gets her head bashed in by her psycho boyfriend. Has he asked for your bank account numbers yet? Or any information about the resort? What better revenge than for us to lose the Princess Amore booking. Not just the rooms, but all the cost of prep work for her meals and let’s not even go into word of mouth. After Miss Falconetti gets through bad-mouthing us we won’t be able to book drunks sleeping off benders!”
“Tristan didn’t know about Daniella Falconetti being here!”
“Oh, right! So this is all just a big coincidence.”
“I don’t have to take this from you.” She clamped her arms over her chest. “Colonel, I quit. I’m moving and I’m never coming back.”
“What are you going to do? Hand out volleyballs at a rec center?” Janine flipped a hand in dismissal. “I’m trying to save you from yourself.”
Megan beseeched her father. “She can’t talk to me like that.”
“Cease and desist, Janine. This is unseemly behavior.”
“Unseemly? What about her keeping her big love affair a secret, sir? Whose idea was that, Meg? Did he tell you to keep it hush-hush? Just your little secret?”
Before she could struggle past her building rage to formulate a reply, the telephone rang. The Colonel and his daughters stared at the instrument, and all three held their breaths. Janine snatched up the handset.
