Jared's Runaway Woman. Judith StacyЧитать онлайн книгу.
Kinsey pointed lamely down the street, realizing that all was quiet now. “The shooting at the Wild Cat…this—this gentleman was just protecting me.”
Sheriff Vaughn studied them for a moment, his gaze bouncing between the two of them.
“You all right?” he asked, his voice a little gentler.
“Yes, Sheriff, I’m fine.”
“Run on ahead,” he said, nodding in the direction of the boardinghouse. “I’ll catch up in a minute. See you safely home.”
Kinsey hurried away, thankful for the darkness that hid her hot cheeks.
Jared watched her go, heat still coursing through him. He couldn’t take his gaze off her, until from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the sheriff and the shotgun he pointed at Jared’s gut.
Sheriff Vaughn was a big man, probably not any older than Jared, but with a hard look and sturdy countenance that surely helped keep him alive in his chosen profession.
The sheriff asked his name and, after Jared provided it, asked, “Where are you from? What are you doing in Crystal Springs?”
“I’m from back east,” Jared said. “Here on business.”
The lawman still didn’t back off, which surprised Jared a little. Small towns like Crystal Springs went to great lengths to lure new business and usually went out of their way to accommodate newcomers. Apparently Sheriff Vaughn didn’t feel that way.
Or maybe he just didn’t like Jared.
“We watch after our women in this town,” Sheriff Vaughn said, hefting the shotgun a little higher. “Even the widows. So don’t go getting any ideas. Mrs. Templeton is well thought of around here.”
Jared’s heart lurched. “Templeton? Kinsey Templeton?”
The sheriff narrowed his gaze at him. “You best watch yourself, Mason. I’m keeping an eye on you.”
Jared stepped up onto the boardwalk as the sheriff strode away. Down the street he caught sight of a skirt swishing in the dim light.
Kinsey Templeton. The woman who’d stolen the first Mason grandchild. He’d found her.
Jared swore under his breath. He’d found his brother’s wife, all right.
And he’d kissed her.
Chapter Three
The towering shade trees that had once sheltered the church lay ahead and Kinsey was never more anxious in her life to get to Sunday service. She had more than her share of sins to atone for this morning.
Already a crowd had gathered. Folks huddled in small circles catching up on news, sharing concern about the sick and shut-ins in Crystal Springs. Children in their Sunday best tugged at their mothers’ hands, anxious to play with friends.
Sam did that now. Kinsey held tight, not wanting him to start roughhousing with the other boys and get dirty before services started.
The church had burned completely to the ground—thankfully no one had been injured—and everyone felt lucky that Reverend Battenfield had agreed to move to Crystal Springs to tend to their spiritual needs, especially under the circumstances. The reverend and his wife, an older couple, were a welcome addition to the town.
With the charred remains as a backdrop, the reverend preached his sermon every Sunday to the townsfolk whowere seated on makeshift benches some of the men in town had built. Kinsey suspected he hoped the difficult circumstances under which he ministered to his flock would be noticed and might loosen purse strings when the building-fund collection plate made its rounds.
Nell and Lily had left the boardinghouse well ahead of Kinsey and she saw them now talking with several other women. Usually, she would have joined them. But this morning Kinsey searched the crowd for someone else.
Sheriff Vaughn.
Embarrassment rose in Kinsey once more and she tried to fight it off so her cheeks wouldn’t turn red again. Good gracious, she’d been caught kissing a man in the alley. What must the sheriff think of her? He hadn’t mentioned it when he’d walked her to the boardinghouse last night, but what if he brought it up this morning? How would she possibly explain it to him?
When she didn’t even understand it herself.
Despite her best effort, Kinsey felt her cheeks grow warm. Because the truth was the stranger hadn’t just kissed her. She’d kissed him back. And her wanton actions hadn’t stopped there. She’d raised herself up on her toes—up on her toes. Leaned her head back so he could kiss her better.
How humiliating. How embarrassing. How could she have done that?
And what was this phantom warmth that lingered in the pit of her stomach hours later?
“Mama, can I go play?” Samasked, tugging on her arm.
Thankfully, reality pushed all thoughts of the stranger in the alley to the back of Kinsey’s mind as she turned her attention to her son. His hair was still damp, slicked into place from when she’d combed it earlier. He wore his Sunday best, dark trousers and the white shirt, that she’d helped him get into after she’d donned her own blue dress and bonnet.
“Can I, Mama? Can I?” he asked, tugging on her arms and hopping up and down.
She glanced across the crowded churchyard and saw several of the boys Sam went to school with playing together.
“All right, you can play for a while. But don’t get—”
Sam jerked away from her and raced toward his friends before she could remind him not to get dirty. As if he would have listened anyway, Kinsey thought with a faint smile.
Just then, Sam tripped on something and fell flat on his belly. A man stepped away from the group of men he’d been talking with and knelt down to help.
Kinsey headed over, not particularly concerned that Sam had hurt himself. He was a tough little fellow and had taken harder falls playing with the Gleason brothers in their backyard. She hadn’t heard him scream, either, the distinctive sound that determined whether a mother responded at a walk, or a dead run.
The man helped Sam to his feet and spoke to him, bringing Kinsey to a quick halt. It was the stranger, the man she’d kissed in the alley.
But he was more than that.
Kinsey saw the stranger and Sam in profile. Same chin. Same nose. Same black hair.
They both turned to her. Eyes and mouth. Nearly identical. Sam’s features were soft. The man’s were hard, straight, rugged. This was what her son would grow up to look like.
Kinsey’s blood ran cold.
Jared Mason had found her.
She charged across the churchyard, her search for the sheriff forgotten, as Jared got to his feet. She swept Sam into her arms. Startled, he let out a scream but Kinsey clamped him against her and dashed through the crowd. At the edge of the churchyard, she ran.
It had taken only a question or two to the men standing with him in the churchyard for Jared to learn where the woman who now called herself Kinsey Templeton lived. Luckily, the sheriff hadn’t been within earshot when Jared had asked his casual questions, and none of the other men noticed when he slipped away.
He’d seen Taylor’s Boardinghouse last night, he realized as he stopped in front of the big white-andgreen house with a front porch swing. Well-made, structurally sound. But was it a clean, decent place for Clark’s son to live?
Another swell of emotion overtook Jared. Clark’s son. He’d known the minute he laid eyes on the boy. He, like Jared, favored the Mason side of the family, though Clark had not.
Even if Jared hadn’t seen the family resemblance, the look on Kinsey Templeton’s face would have told him who the child was. Shock. Fear. And something else.
Courage,