"We'd be delighted," Katlin answered for both herself and Mitch.
"How is Richard doing?" Mitch asked. Katlin didn't miss the concern in his voice.
"Not well," Rick responded. "He took the news of your father's death very hard, and I'm afraid it's set back his recovery quite a bit. Daniel was his oldest and closest friend, more like a brother," Rick added for Katlin's benefit. "It will do him a world of good to see you, Mitch."
"It'll be good to see him too," Mitch replied. "And Sarah. How is your wife?"
"Guess you haven't heard the news," Rick answered with a grin. "I’m going to be a father in a couple of months."
"Congratulations," the word came from Mitch and Katlin simultaneously.
"Thanks. I couldn't be more pleased," Rick acknowledged, not attempting to disguise his cock-of-the-walk smugness. "Now that supper is settled, we'll have a long talk and catch up on everything tonight over cigars and a good Brandy," he said to Mitch. Then looking down at Katlin, "It has been a real pleasure making your acquaintance, Miss Katlin. Until this evening." Without giving her a chance to reply, Westfield donned his hat, tossed a curt nod in Ben's direction, "Ben," was all he said before he walked down the steps and across the street.
Katlin barely caught herself before she let out a tale-tell sigh of relief. The entire exchange had taken barely a few minutes, but so many new elements had been tossed into the simmering mixture she felt her mind was about to go on overload. Mitch's arm had remained around her shoulder, and his hand was gently massaging her shoulder in an almost possessive manner which was reeking havoc with her thought processes, not to mention the rest of her involuntary body functions. Katlin literally prayed for relief from his disturbing presence so she could think clearly.
"Your wish is my command, my Lady."
Katlin felt herself stiffen involuntarily before she could repress the instinctive response to hearing an unexpected voice speaking inside your own head. Sing! "Oh Lord," she mentally groaned. What was he going to do now? Her mental question was met by an irrepressible chuckle. Katlin's eyes quickly darted from Mitch to Ben and was relieved to note that they'd heard nothing. As on the walk to the hotel from the Bulls Head, each seemed to be lost in their own thoughts . . . which suited her just fine. She had her own thinking and sorting out to do.
Mitch had been questioning the wisdom of his actions when he'd felt Katlin stiffen, and, for the first time, he realized he'd been massaging her shoulder unconsciously. An action which felt as natural as breathing. He had hoped that by making it clear he considered Katlin to be his woman, he was affording her some measure of protection. He might also have put her even more at risk. In his opinion, it was a calculated risk.
Merely arriving in Abilene with him had put her in danger by association. Considering the entrance Katlin had made last night, by the time word was spread and exaggerated, there would be few men who would have the guts to cross her. Ben Thompson claiming to be her uncle was an impressive deterrent against anyone having the courage to even think about harming a hair on her gorgeous head. Still, there would always be those crazy fools out to elevate their reputations as gunfighters and, in Katlin's case, . . . as men.
Mitch also had to admit his motives were not totally unselfish. Not only did he want Katlin for himself, his ego felt no small measure of satisfaction in letting Rick believe Katlin had chosen him as well. When they were young, it had always been Rick whose blonde good looks and lethal charm which had all the prettiest girls batting their eyelashes and falling at his feet. Even though Rick was now married and soon to be a father, Mitch knew him well enough to suspect marriage had done little to curb the attention from, or his overactive appetite for, the fairer sex.
He was also well aware that he had effectively declared his intentions to Ben. Katlin might claim she saw Ben Thompson as a relative, but, in his opinion, a man married to her blood aunt over a hundred years in the future, a man who just happened to be the great, great, grandson of the Ben Thompson of Abilene Kansas in 1871, made the term distant relative so far removed as to be nonexistent. Ben, who also happened to be married himself, might be his friend, but he also possessed the sort of magnetism and good looks women seemed unable to resist.
Katlin McKinnen belonged to him. If he had to, he'd take on any man who dared to dispute it.
That thought had barely registered in Mitch's mind when a shot rang out, echoing through the quiet morning, more ominous because it was so unexpected this early in the day.
A cry rang out, "The bank's being robbed!"
Mitch unceremoniously pushed Katlin into Ben's restraining arms. "Keep her here and out of trouble," he demanded before he leaped from the porch and hit the street at a dead run.
Fearing Mitch might well be headed into a trap, Katlin struggled against the hold Ben had on her. "Damn it, Ben, let me go, or I'll be forced to do something we'll both regret," she snapped.
"You heard the man. You're not going anywhere," Ben insisted in a soft but firm voice.
"Don't be a fool. Don't you realize this could be a set up to draw him out in the open?" she argued.
"Don't give the poor man any more grief, Little One," the familiar voice whispered in her head. "You wanted a diversion, and you've got it. Stay put and make the most of the time you've been given."
Katlin abruptly stopped struggling. She took a deep breath and agreed almost meekly, "You're right. Mitch is a big boy, and I'm sure he can take care of himself."
Her response was so out of character from what Ben expected, he suspected she was attempting to sucker him into letting her go. Eyeing her warily, Ben loosened his grip slightly. "Don't try to bluff a gambler, Katlin," he warned quietly. "If I let you go, and you try something stupid, you'll force me to do something we'll both regret. Trust me, you won't get far. Do I make myself clear?"
Lifting her head defiantly, she looked him dead in the eye. "Perfectly," she responded sweetly, allowing him to assume he could have stopped her had she chosen otherwise. Her expertise in The Martial Arts was her ace in the hole, one she didn't want to expose unless forced to do so. If Sing hadn't interceded, she'd have done just that, and poor Ben wouldn't have known what hit him.
"Well, are you going to feed me or not?" Katlin demanded.
Reluctantly, Ben released her, his stance that of a man facing a showdown in the middle of Texas street as he waited for his opponent to make the first move. So intent was he waiting for her to dash into the street, he was stunned when the little minx hit him with a cheeky grin, turned on her heels, and sashayed through the doors of the hotel, effectively leaving him to stare after her pert little backside. Suddenly, Ben was no longer sure who he should feel sorrier for, Katlin or Mitch.
By the time he managed to collect his thoughts and joined her in the dining room, Katlin was already seated at a table by the window, calmly studying the menu. Ben seated himself in the chair across from her, feeling like he should give her a stern lecture about something, but he'd be damned if he could figure out what that was. In all his born days he had never met a woman who left him feeling so at a loss as to what he should do or what he should say. The entire situation left him feeling out of control, and it wasn't a feeling which sat well.
The arrival of the waitress offered a welcomed reprieve for both of them. Katlin, who's appetite had deserted her the instant Rick Westfield stepped through the doors, had been staring at the menu without reading a single word. Hastily she glanced down, seeing the word special, she folded the menu and extended it toward the hovering waitress with an apologetic smile.
"I'll have the breakfast special and coffee," she ordered, hoping the coffee would be more palatable than the coffin varnish she'd swallowed at the saloon.
"Make that two," Ben ordered without bothering to look at a menu.
When the waitress departed, Katlin quickly glanced around the surprisingly posh dining room to assure herself they could talk quietly without the fear of being overheard. As much as she would have liked to take in the ambiance and d
ecor of the room, she also suspected they wouldn't have much time before Mitch returned.
Placing her elbows on the table, Katlin laced her fingers together before resting her chin on them and fixing Ben with a level, unblinking gaze. AI want you to tell me everything you know about the Westfields and their connection to Mitch and his father," she stated simply.
"Why the interest in the Westfields?" Ben countered.
Not having a computer database, other stored records, old newspaper clippings, or even her semi-reliable network of informants to rely upon, she was up the creek without the proverbial paddle. Katlin knew Ben to be her best source of information, and, until she had some solid evidence to back her up, she couldn't go to Mitch with her suspicions. Under the circumstances, she had no choice but to trust her instincts and to rely on Ben's help, praying that despite his unsavory reputation she could safely trust him with her life, just as she had with her uncle in the future. If she was honest with Ben, she could well be putting her life in his hands and Mitch's as well.
"I’m interested in the Westfields because I believe they are the reason I'm here. Because I think they are somehow behind the bounty on Mitch's head. And because I don't think you trust Rick Westfield any more than I do," Katlin answered with total honestly and waited impatiently for his reaction.
Being a private person himself, Ben respected that in others. He prided himself in not being a man to pry into other people's affairs, and, if someone confided something to him, the information stayed with him. Nevertheless, Katlin had been thrown into something she didn't ask for, by powers he couldn't begin to comprehend. Unless she had someone watching her pretty back, she could easily wind up with a bullet in it.
"Katie Girl," Ben began, forcing Katlin to swallow the lump that rose in her throat upon hearing him call her the pet name only her Uncle Ben had used. "Why do you suspect the Westfields are involved? I may not care much for young Westfield nor his old man, but I have no cause to suspect they have a reason for wanting either Mitch or his father dead."
"Call it a hunch. Call it instinct if you will, but I don't believe in coincidences. I don't believe I've been sent to this time and place to come up against the Westfields again without reason."
"Again?"
Katlin was prevented from answering when the waitress returned to the table. She silently poured steaming coffee into their cups and sat the pot on the table before withdrawing. Katlin picked up her cup and took a tentative sip, waiting until the woman was out of ear shot before continuing. The coffee was heavenly, so good she took another drink before replacing her cup in its saucer.
"In the Abilene of the future, the Westfields are considered to be the chief founding family, responsible for its growth, major industries, and its wealth. On the surface they appear squeaky clean, upright citizens who just happen to possess immense wealth and power." Katlin paused, letting that information sink in while she took another sip of coffee. "They are also behind almost every illegal, corrupt, and immoral activity in the city. Their activities are so covert and well-hidden the law hasn't been able to touch them. The closest we've been able to get is that I arrested young Westfield, whose name just happens to be Richard Junior, Rick for short, for brutally beating and raping a young woman."
Her last remark hit a nerve. She could tell by the subtle clenching of Ben's jaw and the way his cup paused slightly in route to his lips.
"Was Westfield found guilty?"
"What do you think?" she shot back sarcastically. AI had been warned against pursuing the case. Warned against crossing a Westfield. I did it anyway, and I lost. As a result, I received several anonymous threats that the same thing was going to happen to me. Does that answer your question?"
Ben visibly let out the breath he'd been holding, and he returned his cup to the saucer none to gently. "Have you told Mitch any of this?"
"There was no reason to. I fell through a time warp that put me over a hundred years from the Westfields, or so I'd thought, until Rick Westfield walked through those doors. I might add, like you, he too looks exactly like his descendant."
"Must have been quite a shock."
"That's putting it mildly," Katlin answered, then reached for the coffee pot so she could warm their cups.
"Watching you out there, I'd never have guessed that you'd done anything more than meet an old friend of Mitch's," Ben said, then added, "Thanks," after she'd refilled his cup.
Considering how closely Ben had been watching the exchange, if he'd noticed nothing amiss, there was a good chance Mitch and Westfield had been fooled as well.
"This still proves nothing," Ben pointed out. "The people you are talking about haven't even been born yet. The Westfields here might not be guilty of anything more than not being very nice people, and even that is just my opinion."
"True," Katlin admitted, "But somehow, I don't think you believe that any more than I do."
"Okay, assuming you're right, what do you think you can accomplish? A mere woman against the Westfields." Ben immediately regretted his rash words. Katlin's spine stiffened, and he found himself on the receiving end of spitting green eyes, caught in a glare that must have resembled what the man in the saloon had faced last night while looking down the business end of her gun barrel. It was not a comfortable position to be in.
"Don't go chauvinistic on me, Ben," Katlin warned with cold but soft spoken emphasis so only he could hear. AI don't need to deal with that macho crap on top of everything else. Either you are with me or against me. But, I will bring down the Westfields, with or without anyone's help."
There was no doubt in Ben's mind that she would attempt to do exactly that or die trying. He had every intention of seeing the latter didn't happen. AI didn't mean that the way it sounded, Katie," Ben apologized soothingly. He had no way of knowing calling her Katie had more effect on soothing her ruffled feathers than his words did. "Of course I'm with you. Mitch will be too once you tell him everything you just told me."
"We can't tell Mitch anything. Not until we have some proof to back it up," Katlin insisted. "You still haven't answered my original question," Katlin reminded him then glanced out of the window to see Mitch walking down the street. "Damn," she muttered aloud. They had just run out of time.
Following Katlin's gaze through the window to see what had caught her attention, Ben began speaking, "There isn't much I can tell you that you didn't hear outside on the porch about the connection between the Camerons and The Westfields. I've known Mitch a long time, but he's always been closed-mouthed about his childhood, his family, or family connections. I knew the Westfields and Camerons were friends, and that Mitch and Rick grew up together after Mitch's mother disappeared but no details."
Mitch had reached the porch steps and spied Katlin at the window. She smiled and gave him a small acknowledging wave as Ben continued quietly. "About the Westfields personally, there have been rumors, but nothing I can state as gospel. Towns like this thrive on gossip which I usually ignore unless it concerns me or someone I care about." Taking a deep breath, he added quickly as Mitch appeared at the dining room door, "I’ll do some digging, and we'll talk again later."
Mitch's expression was grim as he reached their table. Without speaking, he hooked his boot around the leg of a chair at a neighboring table and retrieved an extra cup at the same time.
Katlin waited until Mitch was seated. She had filled his cup from the pot before asking, "So, did you get the bad guys?"
Mitch gave a snort of mirthless laughter, picked up his cup, and took a leisurely drink before satisfying her curiosity.
"Some damned fool in the bank dropped his gun, and it went off, sending everyone into a panic. It's a wonder someone didn't get killed in all the confusion."
"Sing," Katlin groaned inwardly. If he had engineered the fiasco in the bank, she was sure he saw to it that no one was hurt in the incident. She attempted to still her thoughts and listened for a response, but there was nothing to confirm or deny her suspicions.
The waitress bearing their breakfast plates followed on the heels of Mitch's explanation making further conversation impossible. When Katlin's plate was placed in front of her, she was appalled by the amount of food piled upon what she would consider a meat platter. There were three eggs, three biscuits, a huge slab of ham, and a mountain of greasy fried potatoes which had her arteries cringing in protest. To the table the waitress also added a dish of churned butter and another dish containing what appeared to be apple butter.
Ever observant, Katlin didn't miss the fact that the hovering waitress had her eyes fixed on Mitch in much the same manner that Bart had eyed the juicy ham bone Katlin had deprived him of earlier.
"What can I get for you, Mitch?" the waitress asked sweetly, her voice bearing no resemblance to the almost bored, impersonal tone she'd used while taking her and Ben's order. What ticked Katlin off was the fact that the woman's pathetically obvious behavior bothered her at all.
Before Mitch could respond, Katlin pushed her plate in front of him and retrieved one of the biscuits from the plate for herself.
"Mitch has all he needs for now, honey. Thanks anyway," Katlin dismissed the waitress in a tone of voice that closely mimicked the way the woman had spoken to Mitch.
"God, what a bitch," Katlin scolded herself. What was happening to her? She was behaving so out of character she didn't even recognize herself. Inside Katlin was cringing that she could have behaved so outrageously toward the poor woman who clearly had a hopeless crush on Mitch.
Not wanting to risk losing an ally who could be an invaluable source of information, Mitch caught the waitress's eye and favored her with his most charming smile. "Thanks, Betty."
Casting a wary glance toward Katlin who was carefully buttering her biscuit pretending not to notice Mitch's exchange with the waitress, Betty returned his smile.
"One of the ranchers will be checking out around noon," Betty informed him. "I'd be happy to tell them to hold the room for you."
"I'd appreciate that." Then with a wink, he added, AI owe you one."
The Bond Unbroken Page 14
