by Sheryl Lynn
Humming happily, she hurried back to the dining room.
Janine and a lean, dark-haired woman stood next to the table where Tristan, William and Kara were seated. Tristan held a menu before him, but warily eyed the newcomer.
Sister or no sister, if Janine had more “proof” of Tristan’s perfidy, she was dead meat. Megan rushed to Tristan’s side.
“Well, well,” the stranger said. “It is you, in the flesh. It’s been a long time, darling.”
“Not again…Janine!” Megan shoved between Tristan and this new threat. “He’s not who you think he is, lady.”
The woman backed a step. “Is that so? Maybe he isn’t who you think he is.” She raked Tristan with a flinty gaze. “I see you finally dropped .that gut, Brad. Good for you. I always said the extra weight would give you a heart attack.”
Tristan loosed a heavy breath and stood. Everyone in the dining room watched the confrontation. “Mind if we settle this somewhere else, ma’am?”
“We can settle it anyplace you like, Brad. Starting with the little matter of the forty-five thousand dollars you ‘borrowed’ without telling me.”
William pushed back from the table, his face flushed. “Now just—”
Kara placed a firm hand on his arm. “It’s okay, William.”
“This is mistaken identity.” Megan defiantly hooked her arm with Tristan’s. “Tristan is not a con artist and he doesn’t owe you any money. Janine, you better tell her what the sheriff told you. Bradley Carter is locked up in prison.”
“Let me tell you a few things about my husband, missy. He’s—”
“Husband?” Megan vehemently shook her head.
“Yes, husband!” She waggled her left hand at Tristan’s face. A big diamond flashed fire. “I guess you were so busy cleaning out my bank accounts you forgot to get a divorce.” She worked the big ring off her finger, twisting and tugging until it slid over her knuckles. She threw it at his face.
The ring struck his chest and fell to the floor. He groaned and rolled his eyes.
“Cubic zirconium! You’re not only a thief, you’re a cheapskate.” She shifted her coldly furious attention to Megan. “I am Mrs. Bradley Ellis Carter, and I will thank you to take your hands off my husband.”
“Hey, Christie,” Janine said, “don’t talk to my sister like that. She’s the victim here.”
“I don’t need you sticking up for me!”
“Ladies!”
All the women clamped their mouths shut. Tristan scooped his hat off the floor and slapped it against his thigh. He turned to his son. “Finish your lunch with Ms. Kara, boy. I’ll get this straightened out.”
“You bet we’ll get it straightened out,” Christie Carter muttered darkly.
The group, led by Janine, left the dining room and headed for the main office. Megan glared at the newcomer. She appeared around forty, but her knit top and short skirt revealed a well-toned body. Megan was aware Bradley Carter had a long string of women, but he didn’t seem to have a preference about appearance. Daniella Falconetti looked like an Italian movie star, Megan’s sisterin-law, Dawn, was a small, fragile blonde; and this woman strode along as purposefully as an athlete. Megan guessed Carter’s only criteria was the size of a woman’s bank account.
Once in the office, Janine went around the desk, as usual assuming the seat of power. Megan stood between Tristan and Mrs. Carter. The woman carried a small purse hanging from a slender shoulder cord. Megan hoped she didn’t have a weapon in there.
Tristan pulled out his wallet. “Ma’am, I am not and never have been Bradley Carter. My name is Tristan Cayle from Powder,-Wyoming. Lived there all my life, and I’ve never met you before.” He sounded wearily resigned as he showed her his driver’s license.
“Don’t call me ma’am, you lying sack—”
“Hush.”
The woman flinched but shut up.
“Now, ma’am, I’m going to say this one time only. I am not this fellow you think I am.” He canted his head toward Janine. “This lady here has spoken to the sheriff and knows the man you’re looking for is locked up in prison.”
“How do we know that for certain?” Janine’s ringing challenge filled the office.
“What prison?” Mrs. Carter tossed her hair. “Show me!”
“San Quentin is what the Colonel said. That’s somewhere in California, ma’am. Never been there myself, so I can’t offer directions. I’m sorry I look like that fellow, but that’s all I have to be sorry for. Yelling at me doesn’t change anything.”
Megan had some harsh words of her own, but he clamped a hand over hers and squeezed, throwing in a warning glance for good measure. She settled, reluctantly.
“Ms. Duke,” he said to Janine, “my wife, my one and only wife, died six years ago. I don’t have any ex-wives or current wives or even one of those live-in significant others.”
“You are so good at talking,” Mrs. Carter muttered, and dug into her little purse. “I about died when 1 saw you in the newspaper.”
“Newspaper?” Tristan and Megan asked at the same time.
The woman brought out a newspaper clipping. There he was, bigger than life, standing with a beaming William between the governor of Colorado and another man Megan vaguely recognized but couldn’t place.
“Christie lives in Denver,” Janine said. “She saw the article and photograph this morning.” Her mouth twitched in a sarcastic smile. “Thanks for plugging Elk River. It was nice of you to mention us.”
Megan grimaced at the photograph. “Is that the governor?”
“And the mayor of Colorado Springs. Had a little excitement at the airport, and I reckon those city folks think it’s news. Yes, ma’am, Ms. Carter, that’s me, but I’m not that con man fellow.”
“What kind of excitement?” Megan asked, unable to recall him saying anything about the airport. “You never said your picture was going in the paper.”
“I’ll tell you later, Megan. It’s of no account.”
“And I suppose,” Christie said as she held out another photograph, “this isn’t you?”
He took the photograph, holding it so Megan could see. It showed a man and a woman standing with their arms around each other. The woman—Christie—wore a white suit and had flowers in her hair, the man wore a dark suit and an uncomfortable smile. The man’s hair was black, and the cut of the suit jacket didn’t conceal a beefy midsection, but other than that, if Megan didn’t know better, she’d swear it was Tristan.
“I’m supposed to believe you aren’t you,” Christie said. Her chin quivered, and a glaze of tears brightened her eyes. “I can’t believe I was such an idiot. I believed you. I loved you. You didn’t just steal money, Brad, you took away my trust.” She swiped at her eyes and lifted her chin.
Megan took the photograph from Tristan’s unresisting fingers. She looked between it, the newspaper print and his face.
“Be a man for once, Brad. Tell the truth.”
“Truth is, ma’am, I’m not your husband.”
Megan rested both hands on the desktop. More than anger, she suffered a deep and cutting hurt. She and Janine had never been close; her sister had always occupied an exalted realm as the eldest daughter, the beauty, the brains and the child closest to their father. Despite sibling rivalry, petty jealousies, envy and squabbles, Megan had never doubted Janine’s love.
Until now. This vendetta transcended Janine’s highhandedness and ambitious nature. Megan felt betrayed. “What is your game, Janine? You know as well as I do that Tristan isn’t Bradley Carter.”
Janine lowered her eyelids, and her full lips thinned. “When Mrs. Carter showed me the photographs I called the sheriff again. He’s putting in another call to California to find out if there has been a mistake. We’ve got a lot of evidence here. I can’t ignore it.”
“What evidence?” Megan shoved away from the desk and bumped against Tristan. He put a steadying hand on her shoulder.
“The jig is up, Brad,” Christie said. She too
k a seat. “I want my money back. Every penny of it.”
“Where’s the Colonel?” Megan asked.
“In Colorado Springs, meeting with suppliers. He won’t be back until this evening.”
Megan rubbed her temples with her fingertips, trying to force from her brain some solution to this insanity. In Tristan’s shoes, she’d be furious and fed up. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if he stalked out, collected his son and his baggage and left Colorado forever.
Tristan held up a hand. His eyes were shuttered, unreadable, but he smiled slightly. He waggled his hands. “What about fingerprints?”
Uncertainty flickered across Janine’s face. Christie Carter lost some of her fierceness.
“Fingerprints!” Megan smiled and hooked her arm with Tristan’s. “He can change his hair and weight, and maybe even slither out of prison without anyone knowing, but not even a master of disguise can change his fingerprints.”
Janine twisted a strand of hair around her fingers. “You’d submit to a fingerprint check?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded at Christie Carter. “I’ve heard enough to know this Carter fellow is one bad hombre. Can’t blame you for being upset. If fingerprints will put your minds at ease, then let’s do it.”
Megan’s heart filled to overflowing with love and admiration for this man. He had every right to be upset and hateful, but instead his compassion shined through.
Janine called the sheriff again and explained the situation. A sheriffs deputy would come to the resort with a fingerprinting kit.
Leaving Janine and Mrs. Carter in the office, Megan walked with Tristan down the long hallway. He stopped, looked both ways, then drew her into a small linen closet, turned on the light and shut the door. Only then did she notice his hands trembled.
He pulled off his hat and thrust his fingers through his hair. “If I sell a man four good cows, then he gets four good cows. If I tell the preacher I’ll put in a week on repairing the roof over at the church, then he gets a week. I don’t say what I don’t mean, and I don’t make promises I won’t keep. I never in my life had anyone question my honesty. It’s just not done.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she said, realizing his feelings were hurt. “I don’t know why Janine is acting this way. Sure, that guy caused trouble and embarrassed the family.” She hesitated, then winced. “Uh, he did almost get my brother killed. But that’s still no excuse!”
“Killed?”
Megan rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “There was another wife looking for Carter and she had a gun…never mind. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Except your sister isn’t the forgiving kind. No wonder she’s got a burr under her saddle.”
“No! There’s no excuse for the way she’s acting.”
“What about you, honey? Any doubts about me?”
“How can you even ask that? I think you’re the sweetest, kindest, most generous man alive, and I’d never think anything bad about you.”
He touched his hand to her face. His calluses rasped lightly against her cheek.
“Do you remember,” she said, “when we first started sending private E-mail? One day my knee was hurting and the itch under the cast was unbearable. I wrote you a long, blathering note about how unfair life was, and basically I was being a big baby. Do you remember what you said to me?”
He frowned thoughtfully. “Uh-uh.”
“You told me suffering is a choice we make, and sometimes surviving is its own reward. I knew even if you did tease me about my beliefs, that you understood.” She leaned into his caress and closed her eyes. “I knew we were soul mates. Ever since then, I never had a moment of doubt about you, Tristan Cayle. Not then, not now.”
He kissed her. Another silken thread ensnared her heart.
They left the closet, startling a housekeeper who had been about to open the door. Megan’s face warmed, but she smiled, not caring what the resort employees thought about her romance.
When they entered the dining room, Kara and William were finishing lunch. The teenager eyed his father cautiously.
“Everything’s fine,” Tristan said, sliding his hat under his chair. “The sheriff is coming over to take fingerprints and put the mix-up to rest once and for all.”
“You’re taking it calmly, Tristan,” Kara said. “If it was me, I’d deck Janine. She deserves it.”
He glanced at Megan. “From what I hear, she’s got a right to be upset.”
“Are you getting arrested, Dad?” William asked.
“Nope, I’m getting some lunch.” He picked up the menu. “How’s the barbecue beef?”
William slid a sly grin at Kara. “Not as good as Granddad’s, but bearable.”
“Hey, kid, watch the cracks or we aren’t going swimming.”
William clamped his mouth shut, but his hazel eyes sparkled.
“Do you mind if he goes swimming, Tristan?” Kara dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “I’m off until six o’clock. The pool is heated, so he won’t freeze.”
He might, however, die of a heart attack when he saw Kara in a bikini, Megan thought.
“Go ahead,” Tristan said. “Pay heed to the rules now and don’t be horsing around.”
“Yes, sir!” William tossed his napkin on the table and all but flew out of the dining room.
“I’ll keep him out of trouble. Thanks, Tristan.” Whistling, Kara left them alone.
“Hmm, looks like William is in love.”
Tristan snorted. “He’s too young for girls.” He looked up at an approaching server. He ordered the lunch special and iced tea for both of them.
“So,” Megan said after the server left, “how did you end up with your picture in the newspaper?”
He dropped his face onto his hand and groaned. “It was nothing. The mayor and the governor were holding some kind of press conference at the airport and I happened into the middle of it.”
“And?” She loved his discomfited shyness.
“All I did was keep a kid from getting underfoot. The hoorah made the politicians look good.”
Over lunch, she dragged the airport story out of him, word by word, amazed and delighted he’d saved a child from being run over. She couldn’t wait to tell Janine how the man she’d slandered so viciously was in truth a genuine hero.
“I believe when disaster is going to strike, fate brings in the people able to help. That’s why some people are always in the right place at the right time.”
He chuckled. “I call it plain old dumb luck.”
“Remember the airliner crash in Iowa a few years ago? The plane lost its controls, but there just happened to be another pilot riding as a passenger. He helped the crew bring the plane down and most of the people survived. Coincidence? I don’t think so.”
He laughed aloud.
She mock-punched his shoulder. “Don’t laugh at me.”
He rubbed his upper arm. “Quit pounding on me. For a little old skinny girl, you land a good one.”
She glanced at her meager bosom. “You think I’m skinny?”
“I think you’re perfect.” His expression froze, and his gaze fixed above and beyond Megan’s head.
Fearing the arrival of yet more wives, Megan slowly turned her head.
Deputy Sheriff Mike Downes walked into the dining room, accompanied by Janine. Megan’s heart skipped painfully as she envisioned handcuffs on Tristan’s wrists and his public humiliation.
One unkind word, she thought hard at her sister, and I’m going for your eyeballs.
Chapter Ten
The introduction between the rancher and the deputy suffered one tense moment when Janine said, “See, it is Bradley Carter, Mike.” Then the deputy muttered a comment about having never seen the con artist in person, so he wouldn’t know, and he endeared himself further to Megan by acting embarrassed by the whole affair. Mike asked to use an office and promised fingerprinting wouldn’t take more than a few minutes.
Wondering what the two men said t
o each other behind the closed door, Megan paced the hallway outside her father’s office. Janine waited, too, but Megan refused to look at her sister or acknowledge her in any way, even when Janine made apologetic gestures and spoke of doing what she felt was right.
The door opened. Megan swallowed hard and anxiously searched Tristan’s face for clues. He was grinning as he used a moist towelette to clean ink off his hands. Over his shoulder he told Mike that up in Wyoming trout under twenty-four inches long were considered bait-size.
Megan almost felt sorry for Janine, who appeared outraged the men were exchanging fish stories. She flounced down the hallway, muttering to herself.
While Tristan went to wash his hands, Megan entered the office. She watched Mike slip the fingerprint card into an envelope.
“I think Daniella Falconetti is trying to kill Tristan.”
Mike cocked an eyebrow but said nothing.
“I’m serious, Mike. She threatened to murder him. A rock slide almost hit me and Tristan at the hot springs. I think Daniella pushed the rock. Then she threw a rock at Tristan, but missed him and hit my horse. Doc nearly killed me.”
He blinked owlishly. “You are serious.”
“I wouldn’t kid about something like this. That woman is nuts and she’s angry. She slapped Tristan. Boom, right across the face. In public. In front of dozens of people.”
“Does he want to press charges?”
Megan shook her head. “Bad luck, he says. Accidents. But I can’t help thinking something screwy is going on. Is there anything you can do?”
He patted the case in which he carried his supplies. “I’ll run the prints. Then I’ll speak to Miss Falconetti. Unless Tristan wants to press charges for assault, there isn’t anything else I can do.”
“What about the other Mrs. Carter?”
“I’ll talk to everyone.” He grinned boyishly. “You know me, I never mind an excuse to come out here. By the way, I didn’t see Kara on the desk. Is she around?”
Megan curled her lips inward. Poor Mike. He’d been madly in love with Kara since the first time he saw her. Everyone knew it, except Kara, and she barely gave him the time of day. “She goes back on duty at six.”
