Once a Lawman

by Raine Cantrell

  It had been a shock to learn that Charles Riverton, the man he and his brothers suspected of being behind the robberies and the rustling, had once courted their mother. They had become a little desperate when Macaria defended the man against their suspicions. The arrival of the boys to distract her had been a blessing.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about his family’s reaction to Belinda Jarvis and her letter. In a matter of a few months the two boys had slipped into the weave of the family as if they had been born Kincaids.

  And what would this do to the boys? They were as excited as everyone else that the Kincaid nursery would soon have a new baby in the cradle. His youngest brother Ty’s wife, Dixie, was due to give birth in a few weeks.

  He flashed a stare full of the anger churning inside him at Belinda’s back. Like a dust devil, she had swirled in from nowhere to wreak havoc. Unfortunately, Conner did not believe she would disappear as suddenly as she had arrived.

  “Sheriff,” Belinda said softly, slowly turning around to face him. “I, too, have done a great deal of thinking. Is there a problem that we need to discuss?”

  “Problem?” Conner repeated, shaking off his black thoughts.

  “Yes, a problem. I should have realized that there was one, with your reluctance.”

  “You’ll pardon me, ma’am, but I’m not following you.”

  “This man, this Kincaid, he’s an outlaw. Are you afraid to confront him?”

  Conner stilled. He shook his head as if he hadn’t been sure of what she said. “Are you accusing me of being a coward?”

  The oh-so-soft tone of his voice should have warned her, but Belinda, intent on having this over with, dismissed it.

  She came nearer to the desk, glancing around the poorly furnished room. A blackened potbellied stove mounted on a slab of stone filled one corner. The series of pipes that rose to the hole cut through the roof appeared to be a rusted, flimsy affair. Next to the stove stood a table. One broken leg was tied with twine, another was balanced with the aid of an overturned enamel cup. The crowded top held coffeepot, plates, fry pan, cups and canned goods. She knew that the door behind him led to a jail cell, and the building did not appear large enough for there to be more than one.

  On the wall opposite the Wanted posters, a battered bureau missing one drawer and several drawer pulls stood below a filled gun rack. The scarred desk and two chairs completed her survey. Poor, indeed.

  Belinda found bribery a distasteful chore. But she had learned that bribes were necessary when one wanted things done immediately and to one’s satisfaction. She frowned as she closed the short distance to stand in front of the desk.

  “I asked you a question, Miss Jarvis. Are you calling me a coward?”

  “You misunderstood me. I never meant to insult you, Sheriff.” Conscious of the delicate line she walked, her tone conveyed intimacy. “I would imagine a man like you constantly risks his life for very little pay. I seem to recall that marshals earn as little as five hundred dollars a year. There was an article in the—”

  “Yeah, you read that right. There’s little pay. But sometimes a man takes on a job for other reasons. I don’t see that what I’m paid to do my job has any bearing on your business. And I’m not about to forget that you called me a coward, no matter how fancy a spin you put on the words.”

  “A poor choice of phrase on my part. I see before me a man who requires some added reward for doing his job.”

  Placing her reticule on the desk, Belinda opened the drawstring and removed a thick wad of folded bank notes. She narrowed her eyes fractionally when she saw him hunch forward to stare at the money. A cold smile touched her lips.

  “You appear to be a smart man. How much will it cost me to have you accompany me to the Kincaid ranch to retrieve my nephew?”

  Chapter Two

  Conner’s gaze rose slowly from the money until it locked with hers.

  Belinda’s frown deepened. There was the promise of fury within the silvery depths, but she held his steady gaze with her own, missing the way his fingers tensed before he controlled himself.

  “Since I’m just a small-town lawman unused to your city way, I want to be real sure that I understand you this time.”

  Hearing that very soft voice once more, Belinda again found herself ignoring it and the warning that flared within her.

  “Of course. Take all the time you need.” The man had obviously been given a badge for his brawn, not his intelligence. She had made her request as plain as could be.

  “You are offering me a bribe.”

  This time Belinda heeded the warning that whispered through her. “Think of it as a gift of gratitude for your help.”

  “A gift of gratitude? That’s a nice turn of phrase. Tell me, Miss Jarvis,” Conner said, shoving his chair back to stand, “are you always this insulting to the men you deal with? Must you pay them for every service performed?”

  Inwardly cringing at what he implied, Belinda took a hurried step back. She refused to dignify his questions with answers.

  She had not realized from his seated position how tall he was. He easily topped her own significant height by a good six inches. Muscular, male inches. As he slowly leaned forward over his desk, her gaze was drawn to the taut pull of cloth across his chest and shoulders. She revised her first quick summation of the man. He was not a backwoods hick. His shirt was made of a fine linen weave fitted to his impressive body by an expert hand, for the cloth moved with his every deep breath.

  “Miss Jarvis, I asked you questions. I’m not a man accustomed to waiting for answers.”

  Belinda didn’t need him to tell her that he was used to having his questions answered. That commanding tone of his voice had not developed overnight.

  “It appears that I have made a grave mistake about you, Sheriff.”

  “Do tell. A grave is exactly where you could wind up, flashing that much cash around.”

  “Be satisfied,” she snapped in reply. “The admission was not an easy one to make.”

  She tucked the money back into her reticule, venting her anger by yanking the drawstring tight.

  “I suppose you will still require more time to reach a decision? Perhaps you would like to send a telegram to the Pinkerton Agency to confirm what I have told you?”

  “How very kind of you to understand my position.”

  “You are practically accusing me of being a liar! I do not tolerate anyone questioning my word. And there is no need to mock me.”

  “On the contrary, Miss Jarvis, I feel the greatest need to do so.”

  “Blunt, are we?”

  “Honest, lady.”

  A battle gleam shone in her eyes. “There are other ways to accomplish what I have come for.”

  “And I’ll bet you know them all. Honest or dirty as can be. Be warned, honey. This is my territory and you’re way out of your hothouse city league here.”

  “Are you threatening me, Sheriff?”

  “Just warning you. Things happen. A woman alone—”

  “I am not a weak, hothouse flower, Sheriff.”

  For the first time since she had entered his office, Conner allowed full rein to the male speculation that had hovered in his mind, growing steadily as the minutes passed. His gaze roved over her from head to toe and slowly, very slowly, charted a return course until he once more looked at her eyes.

  “Now, there’s a point we both agree upon, Miss Jarvis. You’re no hothouse bloom. You’re more like fireweed, the first to throw deep roots into barren soil and the last to die.”

  A weed! He compared her to a weed! Belinda itched to slap the grin from his lips. She had to trust her instinct that warned anger would gain nothing with him.

  “Why, Sheriff,” she cooed in a sugar-sweet voice, “I do believe you are attempting to flirt with me.”

  “Honey, if I was flirting with you, you wouldn’t have any doubt about it.”

  From the sudden tightening of her jaw, Conner imagined he heard the snap of her teeth coming t
ogether.

  “I have underestimated you.”

  “You—” he leaned farther over the desk to confirm “—sure as hell have.”

  Belinda knew a challenge when she faced one. Without stopping to think, she braced her hands on the edge of the desk and leaned forward until her nose almost touched the tip of his.

  “Mr. Lawman, before I am finished with you, I’ll have your badge.”

  “It’s all yours, honey. Just come and take it.”

  For an endless moment Conner forgot everything this woman threatened. He absorbed the full force of her gaze and the tempting scent of her floral perfume. Sexual tension hummed between them, as basic and as primitive as could be.

  “I was not making an idle threat,” Belinda whispered. She seemed unable to pull back from the compelling, blatantly sensual snare enfolding her. It was his eyes. Had she truly thought their gray color cool?

  “There’s nothing idle about this,” Conner stated in a husky voice. “You still want the badge?”

  The invitation in his eyes and voice had nothing to do with the brass star on his chest. Like the sultry heat that filled the morning air, his invitation to just come and take it hung between them.

  “No,” Belinda murmured, unsure of what she was refusing.

  “Oh, yes,” Conner whispered, throwing caution to the four winds.

  He slanted his head slightly to the right.

  Belinda tilted hers to the left.

  He had only thought the shape of her mouth generous, now he confirmed how very generous her lips were. Warm, silky, smooth flesh met his mouth in a kiss that enticed and beguiled him into wanting more. He caught the hitch in her breathing and felt the fine trembling of her lips that bespoke an innocence he dismissed.

  Belinda startled herself by thinking that their lips fit together perfectly. Dangerously so. She had kissed a number of men since she had made her debut into society seven years ago. But she could not recall a man who kissed with such skill, as if he knew what he wanted and exactly how to get it. Slow as molasses on a winter morning. That was how he tasted her mouth. She was being seduced by the gentle ply of his lips and tongue.

  Her murmured request for more broke across Conner’s mouth and roused him. What in the blazes was he doing seducing the woman who could wreck his family’s happiness? With an abrupt jerk, he pulled back.

  Raking his hands through his hair, he closed his eyes. Of all the dumb mistakes…and I’ll be damned before I apologize to her. But her whispered more replayed in his mind until the word branded itself there.

  Belinda barely managed to stop herself from falling facedown on the desk when the kiss ended so abruptly. She slowly straightened, then turned away. Her reaction flustered her. At the very least she should have protested the liberty he had taken. Taken? Or did you allow it? Honesty called for the admission that she had invited his kiss.

  She caught herself raising the tips of her gloved fingers to her lips. Stop behaving like a schoolgirl who has just had a first kiss. The admonishment did little good. That was exactly how she felt. Why had he stopped? She was not an expert, but he seemed to have been caught in the moment just as she had been. And why did he remain silent?

  Belinda had to seize the opportunity to be in charge. “This should not have happened.”

  His grunt could have meant anything, agreement or disagreement.

  “I do not know what came over me. Not that I am apologizing. There is no need for either of us to make an apology. After all, we are both adults. This was merely a moment’s vagary. I am not prone to such irresponsible behavior.”

  I’ll just bet you’re not. For you, lady, sex had better be tied in fancy lace-trimmed sheets with a big satin bow around a few sparkling gems before you’d let your hair down for a man.

  Far from being calmed by his summation of her character, Conner found himself still irritated by her cool, crisp explanation. Why should it matter? So what if the kiss meant nothing to her? It didn’t mean a damn thing to him. He wasn’t some green kid still wet behind the ears. But the irritation lingered and turned on himself for allowing her to distract him from the business at hand.

  “Just forget about it,” he stated impatiently. “Tell me where I can get in touch with you. Once I’ve checked things out, I’ll let you know my decision.”

  So very cool. Mentally taking herself in hand, Belinda shrugged off the lingering sensual snare that he had spun so effortlessly. What possible difference could it make that this uneducated, uncouth, small-town lawman dismissed her so easily? It must be the heat that affected her. She turned around but could not meet his gaze.

  “You’re staying…” Conner prompted.

  “My Uncle Phillip made arrangements for me to stay with a friend and business associate of his. I am sure you are aware of Mr. Riverton’s contributions to—”

  “Riverton?” Conner almost snarled the name. “Of the Circle R ranch?”

  “I believe that is the name.” Taken aback by the venomous tone of his voice, Belinda grew wary. “Does this create a problem for you?”

  Conner nodded, confirming private thoughts. He swept his gaze over her once more. This time there was no male appreciation, no heat at all in his eyes.

  Conner mentally placed a No Trespass sign flat across the agitated rise and fall of her chest: danger, poison water. He should have known in the first few minutes of her arrival when she announced who she was, trying to impress him with the number of stockyards her family owned in Chicago, and the amount of real estate, that she had a connection to Riverton. Not that it mattered. He was still going to check out her story and Riverton was still going to pay for his crimes against his family.

  “I sent that boy hanging around the depot—”

  “Shelden’s boy Steven. He’s always hanging around old Wally, listening to his stories.”

  “Well, he appeared old enough to ride out to Mr. Riverton’s ranch with word that I had arrived. The ticket agent is holding my luggage until a wagon or buckboard comes.” Puzzled by his stare, Belinda raised her chin a little, her voice sharp. “My uncle assured me that Mr. Riverton would aid me in any way he could to help me accomplish my goal.”

  “Lady, if that’s another of your threats, forget it. Riverton isn’t worth the spit it takes to say his name. If he, or any man working for his brand, sets one foot on Kincaid land, there’s a bullet marked and waiting.”

  “My, my, Sheriff, you do seem to have a problem.” She could not resist the opportunity to test his mettle. She was still piqued that he had dismissed her as a woman so easily. “What a strange thing for a man of the law to approve. And it is approval that I hear in your voice.

  “Perhaps,” she said, toying with the pearl buttons on her glove, “you are the wrong man to help me. You seem to have a deep regard for this Kincaid family, despite the fact that they harbor an outlaw.”

  “Damn right I do, lady. That outlaw you keep harping about is my brother.”

  Belinda’s head jerked up. She stared at him with a dawning horror. “Your brother?” she repeated. “You are a Kincaid? You led me down a garden path all this while. You conniving, miserable excuse for a man. You…” Her gaze darted around in search of something to throw at him. Finding nothing, she lost her temper.

  “You lying cur. You…you…bastard!”

  “Not me, honey. My folks tied the knot long before I came along.”

  “Don’t you dare call me honey.” She briefly closed her eyes as the heat of temper permeated her body. When she glanced at him again, his mocking grin made her grit her teeth.

  Having her attention once more, Conner couldn’t stop himself from prodding her temper. “I won’t call you honey.”

  “Thank you,” she replied in a starched voice.

  “Brine would suit you better.”

  “Brine? My name, sir, is Belinda. Not that I have given you permission to address me by my first name. I am, and will remain, Miss Jarvis to you. And you are still a bastard.”

  Ex
ecuting an about-face with almost military precision, Belinda marched out of the office.

  “Damn, and double damn,” Conner muttered, coming around his desk and kicking the rickety chair. He had only wanted to break through the society lady’s highfalutin manner, not reveal that he was a Kincaid, until he had time to check out her story.

  “Some days it don’t pay to pull your boots on.” Still muttering, Conner snatched his hat and gun belt from the peg near the door and went after her.

  Conner immediately canted his hat brim to shield his eyes from the sudden glare of the sun. Spring had come early to the territory this year. It was the middle of the week and few people milled about town.

  Two horses stood hitched to the rail in front of Shelden’s Mercantile across the street from him. The animals’ heads were down, their tails slowly swishing back and forth to stop the flies from settling on their hides.

  He waved to Mose Riley who waited for his checker partner to arrive. It was a town joke that Millicent Haines, the preacher’s wife, made her father spruce up before he could sit in front of the mercantile to share war stories with his old crony while they belabored every move.

  Conner glanced at the swing and sway of Belinda’s bustle as she marched on, looking straight ahead. Damn but she was a fine-looking woman!

  It was quiet enough for her to hear the clank of his spurs hitting the wooden sidewalk when he followed her. Beyond the mercantile, the sound of a hammer rang out from Tom Sweet’s forge. Owner of the livery and blacksmith shop, Tom and Walter Waterman had founded the town. Walter owned the bank, ran the telegram office and partnered his son in the freight line.

  Conner spared a quick look into the new plate glass window of the Sweetwater Weekly Gazette. Mark Dryer had taken over the paper six months ago and had come out in support of Conner’s bid for election. He could see Mark hunched over his typesetter but didn’t attempt to gain his attention.