Читать книгу Justin's Bride - Сьюзен Мэллери, Susan Mallery - Страница 7

Megan held the door open impatiently as Justin slowly stepped inside. If she didn’t know better, she would swear he was taking as long as possible. Probably to punish her, she thought, shaking her head. She’d seen the anger in his eyes when just moments ago she’d accused him of not thinking of her reputation.

As soon as he was in the foyer, she slammed the door shut and adjusted the curtains on the side window. Her father had built the house on the far edge of town, opposite where all the new buildings had sprung up. He’d bought the surrounding land and enough of the woods to ensure privacy. Megan didn’t get many visitors, but it would only take one to see Justin sitting on her front porch. Within hours, the entire town would know he’d been there and her reputation would be ruined. Not that he cared.

She glared up at him. His brown eyes met hers and flashed with equal fire. The tension between them crackled. She wanted to stomp her foot with irritation.

“Aren’t you going to invite me to take a seat in the parlor?” he asked, his lazy drawl a direct contrast to the stiff set of his body and the angry, thin line of his mouth.

“No,” she said curtly, even as the reminder of good manners made her feel guilty. It was wrong to keep a guest standing in the foyer. But Justin wasn’t a guest. Thank goodness her father wasn’t alive to see this moment. Why he would have—

She swallowed hard as she met his stare. The tension she’d been aware of moments before charged the air. Like a summer electrical storm, when bolts of lightning ripped across the sky and loud claps of thunder echoed so forcefully the house shook. But during those storms there was no rain for relief, no soft patter of individual drops to provide counterpoint to the violence and beauty. And so it was in this room. There was the combination of anger and the past with nothing gentle to ease the intensity between them.

The skin on her arms puckered and a shiver raced down her spine. She lowered her gaze from Justin’s dark brown eyes to his mouth, then to his broad shoulders and chest. His thick coat only made him look more powerful. And masculine.

He was a man, a man who had always been able to make her forget what was right and proper. He’d always been able to make her forget herself and all her good intentions. The ticking of the clock in the parlor suddenly sounded very loud. The steady sound seemed to echo in the house, reminding her she was completely alone with him. There were no witnesses, and no one to come to her rescue.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice low and quavering.

He shook his head, as if coming out of a dream, then moved away from her. There was very little light penetrating the curtained windows and soon they would be in darkness. Justin walked to the lamp she kept by the front door. Without asking her permission, he lit it. When the wick caught, he adjusted the flame until it burned brightly. Casually, as if he had the entire evening, and more time besides, he unbuttoned his coat.

Megan clutched at the fasteners at her throat. He hadn’t done anything untoward, but she suddenly felt vulnerable, as if he’d started to undress. It’s just a coat, she told herself. Most people took them off indoors. But most people hadn’t kissed her on summer nights while sitting on the bank of the stream. Most people hadn’t touched her waist and then moved higher to delicately caress her—

Don’t think about it, she commanded herself. What she’d done with Justin had been a madness born of youth and the night, and that bit of whiskey she’d sipped from his flask. It had been a dream. In the light of day, she’d felt ashamed.

Liar, a voice inside of her whispered. You felt wonderful. She ignored the voice.

“I told you, I came to apologize.” He paced to the bottom of the staircase that circled gracefully toward the second floor, then turned and glared at her. “God knows why I bothered. I should have remembered nothing is more important to Miss Megan Bartlett than what the rest of the world thinks.”

It was a familiar argument, one they’d had countless times. “Not everyone enjoys flouting convention.”

“Maybe, for once, you could figure out yourself what matters instead of letting other people tell you,” he said.

She clenched her teeth together and unfastened her cloak. After setting it on a hook on the hall tree, she stepped in front of the mirror and pulled the pin from her hat. She could see the flush of anger on her cheeks. It reminded her that she could deal with Justin better if she stopped letting him think that his comments had any power over her.

“I form my opinions after reflecting on the Lord’s, the laws of the day and dictates of society,” she said calmly and set her hat down. She turned to him. “Despite your urgings, I don’t believe I should place my opinions above theirs.”

“That’s always been your problem. You need backbone, Megan.”

Her temper began to burn at the edges of her self-control. She firmly gripped the singed edges. “In your absence, I seem to have survived the loss of my father and kept the store running successfully. Rather large accomplishments for someone with no backbone, wouldn’t you say?”

He stepped toward her. “But everything you do, every thought, every action is dictated by what other people think. What are you so afraid of?”

“Harming my reputation,” she snapped. “Something you wouldn’t care about, being a man. But I’m a single woman in a small town. If I expect to keep my place, I must concern myself with others’ thoughts. If you don’t share my concerns, you should at least understand them. After all, your mother had a bad reputation and look what happened to her.”

The second she spoke the words, Megan wanted to call them back. She clamped her hand over her mouth, but it was too late.

Justin froze in place, halfway between her and the stairs. The flame from the lamp danced with some slight draft, casting shadows on his face. His mouth straightened into a grim line and the muscle in his right cheek twitched. Something dark and ugly stole into his eyes.

She stepped away. Not out of fear, but out of shame. “I’m s-sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to say that. It was wrong of me. Completely wrong. I know you loved your mother and that she was a good woman. You made me angry.” She twisted her fingers together in front of her waist and shrugged slightly. “That’s a stupid excuse, isn’t it? It’s not your fault and I shouldn’t try to say that it is. It’s mine. I’m sorry.”

He blinked and it was as if he’d never heard her slight. His face relaxed into its original mocking expression. “Don’t apologize on my account. I’ve heard worse in my time. Your comments weren’t original, or even harshly spoken. I don’t care enough about you to be wounded by your opinions.”

He’d changed so much in the time he’d been gone. The young man who had taught her about kissing and passion had been replaced by a dark stranger. Just as well, she told herself. The old Justin would have tempted her too much. This man was unknown to her. If she kept it that way, she wouldn’t be at risk.

“Wounded or not, I do apologize.” With a sigh, she moved past him into the parlor. The last rays of afternoon light slipped through the drapes and outlined the large pieces of furniture in the room. She moved to a corner table and lit a lamp. She placed the smoldering match in a small metal tray, then turned to him.

As she’d suspected, he had followed her into the room. He rocked back and forth on his heels as he looked around at the furnishings. She followed his gaze, wondering how the parlor would appear to a stranger.

Overly furnished, she thought, glancing from the three settees, to the scattered tables and covered chairs. Her father had had a fondness for expensive things. There were lacquered boxes and silver candy dishes. A beautiful ivory fan bought in New Orleans from a ship that had been nearly around the world. Cream-colored wallpaper and heavy, dark blue drapes provided a backdrop for the ostentatious display.

“Who would have thought I would be so blessed as to finally see the inside of the famed Bartlett mansion?” he said. He raised his eyebrows. “You must be very proud living here.”

“I’m not. You know that, Justin.” She glanced at one of the settees and thought about sitting down, but she was afraid he would sit next to her. With her heart already pounding in her chest and her palms damp, she didn’t think she could deal with the consequences of him being so close. “This house means nothing to me. It is still my father’s home, not mine.”

“Yes, of course. You could be happy in a small sod hut somewhere out west. Fighting snakes and scorpions, watching your children die from the elements.”

“You twist my meaning.”

He thrust his hands into his trouser pockets. The smile pulling at his mouth was anything but pleasant. “Are you saying you would be content in a single room above a saloon? Like my mother? You could hear the noise from below, you know. The yells of the drunken men, the squeals of the saloon girls. And the smells. Tobacco, sweat and—”

“Stop!” She moved toward him until she was directly in front of him. “Please, stop. I’ve said I was sorry for what I said about your mother. It was thoughtless and cruel. I have no excuse except for the truth.” She dipped her head slightly and stared at the center of his broad chest.

“Which is?”

He had been in town less than a day and already her life had been turned upside down. “When I’m frightened, I tend to speak without thinking. It’s a failing. I beg your indulgence.”

“Beg” had been a poor choice of words. She saw that instantly when she risked meeting his gaze. The fire had returned, but it wasn’t fueled by anger.

He had the most beautiful eyes, she thought, staring into their deep brown depths. Thick lashes framed the pure color. The dark slash of his eyebrows added to his handsomeness, making him look sardonic one minute, gently teasing the next. Justin’s moods changed like the surface of the stream, quickly and without warning.

She blinked several times and looked away. Yes, the anger was gone, but that which replaced it was much more dangerous.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked softly.

“Your return.”

She turned away and walked over to the fireplace. Logs and kindling were kept stacked in readiness for guests. She crouched down and lit the fire. When the smaller pieces had caught, she rose to her feet and motioned to one of the settees. “Please, have a seat.”

He shook his head. “I’m not going to be here that long. Why are you afraid of me?”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, then smiled. He was the least of it, really. She was the problem. Being around him, thinking of him, made her act differently, as if the respectable woman she worked hard to be was just a false covering, like a storefront. As if the world saw her as a gracious two-story mercantile, but inside she was just a squat saloon.

She smiled at the analogy. He seemed to addle her brain as well as her senses.

“So, you’re going to be here for a year,” she said.

His gaze moved over her face, then dipped lower. She told herself to be insulted, but the frank appraisal left her feeling warm and tingling. Justin had often looked at her like that in the past. The appreciation in his eyes had made her proud to be female and that which he desired. It had frightened her a little, for her inexperience had left her with more questions than explanations. But in his arms that hadn’t mattered.

He’d tempted her with his soft kisses. Despite his time away and the changes in both their lives, he still tempted her. Pray God he chose to ignore her.

“Yes. As I told you earlier this afternoon, I have a one-year contract with the good citizens of this town.” The mocking tone had returned.

“Why did you come back? To punish them?”

He shook his head. “To make peace with the past, although that doesn’t seem to be working.”

“What are your plans while you’re here?”

He raised his eyebrows again. “I’m the sheriff. I’ll enforce the laws, try to keep people out of trouble and generally make my presence known.”

She bent down and picked up a lacquered box from the table. The smooth surface felt cool against her heated fingers. “There are those who will oppose you.”

“Your sister, you mean?”

“Not just her. I know Colleen has become a—”

“Prig?”

Megan smiled. “That’s quite unkind of you.” She set the box back on the table, then straightened. Her smile broadened. “But yes, she has. And her husband is worse. I’ve heard the whispers, what people are saying about you. Eventually, everyone comes into the store. The new settlers don’t mind that you’re sheriff. As long as they are free to get on with their lives, they’ll have no complaints. But the old-timers, the ones who were here when...” Her hand fluttered toward him. She didn’t want to speak of that time, or that day. She didn’t want to recall the ugly words she’d spoken to him, or the pain in his eyes. She didn’t want to know how much she’d hurt him. And herself. In the deepest, darkest part of her heart, she knew she’d made the right decision. She couldn’t have gone with him. But she’d been wrong in the delivery of the message. She’d been so afraid he would convince her to come with him that she’d lashed out in fear, speaking harsh words that could never be recalled.

“They won’t forgive you,” she said.

“They don’t have to. I appreciate your concern, but it’s misplaced. The contract’s binding. Unless I commit a crime, they can’t get rid of me. For the next year, they’re going to have to get used to having me around.”

“When the year is up, what happens then?”

He looked past her toward the fire. “Then I leave this place behind and never come back.”

“So it’s just for a year?”

His eyes met hers. She saw the amusement. She was so grateful he would eventually be leaving, she didn’t care that it was at her expense.

“Yes, Megan. One year. Then you’ll be through with me for good.”

She could bear anything for a year, she told herself. “I think it best that we try to stay out of each other’s way during that time,” she said.

Instead of answering, he smiled. She knew that smile. It made her knees weak and her fingers tremble. It made her remember his kisses, and more. It made her wish Justin Kincaid had been respectable, the son of a farmer or a business owner. It made her wonder what would have happened if she’d gone with him.

“Why is it a problem if we see each other?” he asked, the glint in his eye reminding her he was dangerous.

She couldn’t answer that question. He might suspect the truth, but he wouldn’t know for sure. “Why are you here?”

“I told you, I’m the sheriff.”

“No, why are you in my house? Why did you come to see me tonight?”

“I want my question answered first. Why is it a problem if we see each other?”

She didn’t think he’d moved, but somehow they were standing closer together. The snapping of the burning wood in the fireplace filled the silence. The scent of the smoke mingled with the fragrance of the night and the man. She could feel his heat. She had to tilt her head back to look at his face. Her hands clasped and unclasped.

He reached out toward her. She thought about stepping back, but she couldn’t seem to get her feet to move. He was going to touch her, and she was going to let him. She needed to know if he could still affect her, she told herself firmly. It was a scientific experiment.

His thumb whispered against her jaw, then swept across her chin. Sensation shot through her like the unexpected warmth of sunlight after a storm. The room grew hot, her muscles clenched tight.

“Why aren’t you married?” he asked.

“No one ever asked.”

The lie was so automatic, she shocked herself. Why had she said that? She’d been engaged for months. It would be better for Justin to know the truth, but she couldn’t say anything now. She was confused. Nothing made sense, and Justin was moving closer.

“I find it hard to believe you never tempted a man,” he said. “Are they all blind?”

She should have been pleased at the implied compliment, but she was too caught up in that single word. Tempted. Had he known that was what she was thinking? Did he know he tempted her?

“I’m not interested in temptation,” she murmured, wondering why her voice was so soft. She tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. Against her will, she found herself staring into his eyes, watching the fire reflected there. The light seemed to dance about, then darken. The night closed in around them. She could feel the heat from the fireplace behind her and the heat of the man. It was like a dream where she couldn’t move, couldn’t call out. Could only bravely accept her fate.

But instead of the frightening demons of her dreams, she only had to face Justin. Not so difficult a task.

“I’m interested,” he said, reaching his hand up to cup her face. His lean fingers held her gently. She felt the rough calluses against her skin.

“In what?” she asked.

“Temptation.”

His face drew closer. The flames in his eyes grew brighter. She vaguely thought it couldn’t just be the reflection of the fire behind her, it had to be something else, something...

When his lips touched hers, all conscious thought fled. Her eyelids must have closed for she could see nothing, hear nothing. There was only the moment and the flood of memories filling her with the bittersweet taste of the past.

His mouth was firm, yet yielding. The powerful passion she recalled was now carefully controlled. He brushed across her mouth, back and forth as if familiarizing himself with her. She raised herself on tiptoe to mold her shape to his. The correct and proper side of herself screamed it was foolish and wrong to be doing this. She didn’t care.

Justin wrapped his arms around her shoulders and drew her closer. From chest to knees they touched. Through the layers of her skirt and petticoats, she couldn’t feel much but the general shape of him, but he was all she remembered him to be. The rightness of it brought a burning to her eyes.

She wanted to hold him, as well, but couldn’t bring herself to acquiesce that much. She held her arms at her sides, her hands curled into tight fists.

His fingers slipped under her chignon and kneaded the back of her neck. He moved down her spine, touching, pulling her even closer. His mouth angled against hers, his lips pressing harder now, taunting her with passion.

It wasn’t supposed to feel so good. Other men had kissed her. Not many, but one or two. Why did he have to be the one who made her feel this way? She swallowed her cry of protest against this cruel trick of fate.

His hands encircled her waist. Her breathing came faster now. He dipped his head lower, moving his mouth to her jaw, then down her neck to the collar of her dress. She arched against him, ignoring the way her movement caused her corset to dig into her. The pain didn’t matter, and neither did the fact she couldn’t draw in a deep enough breath. When he returned his lips to hers and his tongue swept across her sensitized skin, she released her last hold on sanity. Her mouth parted and her arms came up toward him.

As he dipped inside, she prepared herself for the onslaught of madness. He would make her forget herself, forget everything, and she didn’t care at all.

Her hands splayed across his chest, feeling the strength of him concealed only by his white shirt and long underwear. He was hard to her soft, angles and planes where she was curves and swells. She reached under his coat to hug him tighter, all the while savoring his kiss. She moved her hands over his ribs and bumped something in his pocket.

The lump moved, then meowed softly and stretched. Justin broke their kiss.

“What’s that?” she asked as soon as she could get her mouth working again.

He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a tiny calico kitten. “Her mother was a good mouser. I thought you might like her.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry about what happened in my office today. That’s what I came by to tell you. We’ve had our problems in the past, but that doesn’t change my responsibilities to you or the town. I was rude to you and I apologize. I brought her for you.”

He held out the kitten. She took her and cupped the small creature in her hands. Bright green eyes blinked sleepily. The kitten nuzzled Megan’s chest and exhaled a deep breath. The kitten’s purring became muffled as she buried her face under the tip of her tail.

“She’s so sweet.” Megan glanced up at him. The dampness of his mouth and his knowing look reminded her what had just happened between them. They were still standing close together. Too close. She stepped back. It didn’t help much. She had a bad feeling she could walk clear to the other side of Kansas and it wouldn’t be far enough. Justin’s apology made her want to forgive him everything. His hot kisses and thoughtful gift made her feel more than was safe. She should ask him to leave right now. Before any more damage was done.

“Would you like to stay for supper?” she blurted out.

He shook his head and started buttoning up his coat. “That wouldn’t be a good idea. You’re right. We aren’t supposed to be friends. It would be better for everyone if we tried to stay out of each other’s way. I know Landing isn’t that big, but if we work at it, I think we can avoid too much contact.”

She wanted to ask why he’d had a sudden shift in attitude. She bit her lower lip. Was it the kiss? Had he been disappointed? Had she shocked him by responding? Did he think she wasn’t a lady?

She walked with him to the front door. She held the kitten close, savoring the animal’s warmth and the faint rumble of her purr.

“Thank you for her,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” Dark eyes met and held hers. She couldn’t read his expression. Justin was such an odd combination of known and unknown. A stranger, and yet—she squeezed her still-tingling lips together—someone she would never forget.

“I apologize for what I said about your mother.”

He shrugged. “Goodbye, Megan.” He reached for the hat he’d left on the hall tree when he’d first come inside, then stepped onto the porch.

Instinctively, she swept her gaze across the bare garden. In the last lingering illumination of twilight, she didn’t see anyone standing around. Thank goodness. Heaven only knew what would happen if her sister or someone from town saw him leaving her house.

“You aren’t going to say anything to anyone, are you?” she asked.

He looked at her over his shoulder. Confusion pulled his dark eyebrows together, then his expression cleared and she could read his contempt. “No. I won’t say a word. Your precious reputation is safe with me.”

He stalked away. Megan stared after him. She thought about trying to explain, but he would never understand. He didn’t know the danger of being ostracized. He didn’t know what fate she would suffer. So many times she’d started to tell him the ugly secret from her past, but she hadn’t. She’d been too ashamed.

So instead of calling him back, she closed the door and locked it, then headed for the kitchen.

“I have some cream,” she murmured. “Would you like that?”

The kitten stirred in her arms. The small warmth wasn’t enough to banish the ghosts from the past and the chill from her heart, but it was so much better than facing them all alone.

* * *

Justin pulled up his collar against the cold night air. As he made his way back to town, he cursed himself for still being a fool. Damn Megan and damn himself for caring. Her precious reputation had always been more important than anything else. Why was he surprised that hadn’t changed?

He shook his head in disgust. He hoped her reputation kept her company in bed at night, otherwise she was going to have a long and lonely life. Not that he cared. He was only sorry that he’d wasted his time with her. Going to see her had been a mistake. Kissing her a bigger one.

Suddenly, he laughed out loud. His breath created a small cloud. He slapped his arms over his chest and walked faster. Kissing her hadn’t been a mistake, it had been mighty pleasurable. He’d wondered if anything had changed between them. Now he knew it hadn’t. The passion, the fire, had still flared, and she’d tasted as sweet as he remembered.

Just thinking about her yielding body pressing against his was enough to make his groin harden. Unfortunately, even the cold didn’t ease the swelling. He hoped thoughts of their kisses were bothering her as much as they bothered him. He grinned. It had been worth it, that’s for sure.

Justin walked around the back of the Bartlett General Store, then across the muddy street toward the sheriff’s office. He had to lock up for the night before he could head back to his hotel room. As he passed the saloon, he heard the familiar sound of music and yells of excitement. No doubt there were a couple of poker games going on inside. He should probably make an appearance, but his duties didn’t officially start until the morning.

He paused across the street from the building and stared at it. This saloon was newer and larger than the smaller Golden Landing down the street. He made himself walk toward that one, wondering what it would cost him to go inside.

The old building hadn’t changed. The worn sign still needed painting. Three panes of glass had been covered over by boards, so little light filtered onto the boardwalk. Upstairs the windows were dark. The women hadn’t started their “hostess” duties yet. It was early and most of the customers hadn’t found their way to the saloon yet. Tinny piano music covered the sound of conversations and clinking glasses. Justin knew that in an hour or two the raucous noises would drown out the sound of the piano, and by ten o’clock, the man playing the instrument would give up. He knew the sights and sounds and smells of that saloon. The Golden Landing had been the first wooden building constructed in town. His mother had worked there for as long as he could remember.

Without trying to he could recall the sound of her weary footsteps on the stairs as she’d climbed up to their room. Year after year she’d worked washing glasses, serving customers, cleaning up after everyone had gone home. Time and time again she’d been offered money to warm a man’s bed. With a growing boy to provide for, she must have been tempted to take the easy way out. But she hadn’t. She’d kept their tiny room spotless, him in food and shoes. Every year he’d watched her grow weaker. He’d quit school to work, but the extra money hadn’t helped improve her cough, or changed the gray tinge to her skin.

He swallowed hard, fighting the memories. His mother had been a decent hardworking woman. But no one in Landing had cared. She’d worked in a saloon and hadn’t married his father. That was all anyone had needed to know.

He turned away from the building and the past. As he had several times already that day, he wondered if he’d made a mistake by coming back. The idea of returning to Landing and making his peace with the town had sounded so easy. Now he wanted to forget he’d ever heard of the place. And Megan Bartlett.

Without trying, he could feel her body pressed against his and taste the sweetness of her mouth. Damn. He’d never been able to resist her. He wouldn’t have come back if he’d known she was here. Why hadn’t she married and moved away? Now he was going to have to deal with the fact that he’d once offered his heart to her, exposed his most secret self and she’d thrown all of it back in his face. She’d reminded him he was just that bastard Justin Kincaid and that he’d been a fool to think she might have cared about him.

The anger might be old, but it still lived inside of him. He wished it would burn hot enough to allow him to make her pay for what she’d said and done, but that wasn’t possible. He could never hurt Megan. Which is why he had to stay out of her way.

As he crossed the dark, empty street, he noticed light shining out of the sheriff’s office. He hadn’t lit any lanterns before he’d left, so he must have visitors.

As he approached the building, he saw two men standing in front of his desk. One of them turned toward the window. The muscles in Justin’s stomach clenched tight. He recognized the light brown hair and mustache. It had taken Wyatt the better part of five months for it to grow in that thick. He’d been so proud of his mustache that Justin wasn’t surprised to see he still wore it, after all these years. He didn’t know the younger man standing next to Wyatt, but he knew who they were. The gleaming silver badges on their chests told him. His deputies.

He walked softly toward the door, then paused before entering. Wyatt had been one of the boys who had taken pleasure in beating Justin up. When Justin had grown big enough to hurt back, Wyatt had given up his game. Justin wondered if his old enemy knew who the new sheriff was.

He opened the door and stepped inside. The two men turned toward him. The stranger gave him a half smile, but Wyatt stared as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Evening, gentlemen,” Justin said. He walked closer to the men. “I’m Justin Kincaid, the new sheriff of Landing.”

The smaller, dark-haired man held out his hand. “Daniel Thomas, Sheriff. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” They shook hands. Justin studied the younger man, taking in the firm set of his jaw and the straightforward appraisal of his eyes.

“Thomas,” he said. “How long have you been in town?”

“About three weeks, sir. I worked as a deputy up North for a while. I’m sure excited about this job.”

“Good.” Justin turned his attention to the other man. “Evening, Wyatt.”

“Justin.” Wyatt’s blue eyes met his. Justin read the confusion there, the shock and anger. Then all the emotions were banished, and the other man smiled. “Welcome home.”

Justin walked over to his desk and picked up a piece of paper. “I’ve got a contract that says I’ll be here for a year. I won’t accept less than complete loyalty and obedience. You can either work with me, or move on. Which is it to be?”

Wyatt shifted his weight and brought his right hand up to rest on his waist, right above the butt of his pistol. Justin didn’t blink. He wasn’t armed, but that wasn’t something he cared about right now. Wyatt wasn’t going to draw, the man was just testing him. He didn’t mind the testing, what he cared about was Wyatt’s decision. He would rather be a man short than work with someone he couldn’t trust.

Thomas glanced from him to Wyatt, obviously confused. Wyatt stared at Justin. “I heard the name but didn’t believe it. If someone had told me we were going to meet in a sheriff’s office, I would have guessed you’d be on the other side of the bars.”

Justin smiled. Wyatt was right. After all the trouble he’d caused in town and the reason he’d been run off, it made sense to assume that. “I almost was,” he said. “But I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’ve been a deputy over five years. I’ve studied law, even been offered a turn at being a judge. My qualifications were enough for this town. I don’t give a damn about whether or not they’re good enough for you. I just want to know where you stand. I won’t watch my back. Either you’re with me, or you find yourself another job.”

Wyatt relaxed and dropped his hand to his side. “Take a good look at this man, Thomas. He broke my nose when we were both twelve. Did it again when I was fifteen. All right, Justin. I’ve learned my lesson, too. I’ll work with you.”

Justin’s gaze narrowed. That was too easy. He didn’t trust Wyatt.

Wyatt shrugged. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s not only your besting me in a fight. We all know you didn’t beat up that woman. If you’d stuck around long enough, you would have found out for yourself that you were cleared of the accusation.”

Justin settled on a corner of his desk. “No one else was willing to wait around to find out I was innocent,” he said. “They were all anxious to attend a hanging. Leaving seemed best.”

Wyatt nodded. He walked two steps closer, then held out his hand. “My sister admitted to me that she was sweet on you. Told me she’d cornered you after a barn dance. Said she kissed you, and, ah, made it clear she wouldn’t say no. She told me you sent her back to her mama and warned her if she was foolish enough to make that offer to another man, she would find herself in more trouble than she could handle. I’m obliged to you for that.”

Justin took the man’s hand and they shook slowly, measuring each other. He still didn’t trust Wyatt, but he was willing to give him a chance.

Thomas still stared at the two of them, bewildered. “Sir, I don’t understand.”

“You will.” Justin slapped him on the shoulder. “I used to live here. I was a hell-raiser and troublemaker. My mother worked in a saloon, but she wasn’t a whore. I never knew my father and my parents didn’t marry. That makes me a bastard. Some would be happy to tell you that’s not the only thing, either. I work hard and I expect the same from my men. I hold on to my temper.” Except around Megan, he thought suddenly and had to fight back a grin. “I don’t allow drinking on duty, or gambling ever. Aside from that, what you do with your own time is your business. Any questions?”

Wyatt shook his head. Thomas gaped at him, apparently overwhelmed by the information and instructions.

“Thomas? You have a problem with any of that?”

“No, sir.”

“Good.” Justin took his seat, then lowered the box containing his belongings to the floor. “Anything been going on in town that I should know about, Wyatt?”

Wyatt walked over to his desk and picked up a couple of papers. “I was writing up a report for you. Everything has been quiet around here.” He handed Justin the sheets. “Except for the murder last month.”

“Murder?”

Wyatt shrugged. “Some saloon girl was found beaten to death on the edge of town.”

Justin stared at the other man. The coldness in his stomach quickly spread to the rest of his body. He was careful to keep his face expressionless as he studied the details of the case. There weren’t many. According to the report, Roberts, the previous sheriff, had investigated for a couple of days and had concluded that one of the many drifters who had been in town at that time had been responsible for the crime.

The hairs on the back of Justin’s neck stood up. Something wasn’t right. “What kind of sheriff was Roberts?” he asked without looking up.

“Decent. He kept the town clean.”

Not clean enough, Justin thought, fighting the ghosts that threatened to suffocate him. For a second, he entertained the notion that Roberts had ended the investigation because he’d been bought off. No way to prove that. But he didn’t like any of it—not the murder, the brief nature of the investigation or the fact that the victim was a saloon girl.

“According to this, he didn’t interview anyone but the saloon owner. There’s no proof she was murdered by a drifter.”

“If it wasn’t a drifter, then it had to have been someone in town,” Wyatt said. “That doesn’t make sense. Who would want to kill her?”

Justin had no answer for that. He glanced over the paper once more, then focused on her name.

Laurie Smith. The cold knot in his stomach tightened. She was the same woman who had been beaten up seven years before. She was the reason he’d been run out of town. He’d been accused of the crime. He hadn’t done it and as soon as she’d regained consciousness, she’d cleared his name. But it had been too late. He’d already left Landing, swearing he would never come back.

Well, he was back now. And a saloon girl had been murdered. In keeping with this town’s attitude about someone they thought was less respectable than themselves, no one gave a damn. But he did. It was possible the two crimes had been committed by the same person. And he damn well wanted to find out who.

“I want to reopen the investigation.”

He glanced up at Wyatt. The deputy shrugged. “You’re the boss.”

Justin set down the paper. He had something to prove to the town and himself. He would solve this. He had no choice. The case hit far too close to home.