Jared's Runaway Woman

Two: Kinsey didn’t want to leave town.

Realizing she and Sam were safe until the following morning when Jared had said he’d return, Kinsey had gone about her chores at the boardinghouse as usual, helping Nell and Lily with supper preparations. Somewhere between peeling the potatoes and serving the apple pie, Kinsey had decided that she didn’t want to be forced out of Crystal Springs. She didn’t want to be on the run again, searching for a new home, making new friends, always looking over her shoulder. She liked it here. She liked her home, her job, Sam’s teacher, his friends, the townsfolk.

Washing up the supper dishes, Kinsey had decided to stay—and keep Sam with her, of course. Now, after tucking him into bed and slipping on her bonnet and wrap, she left the boardinghouse armed with nothing more than a plan.

Yet her plans had kept her and Sam safe for five years, had brought her to this comfortable town, had held the Mason family at bay.

It surprised her a bit that Jared hadn’t known who she was or that the private detective hadn’t discovered it. Apparently, in Clark’s many letters to his family he’d never mentioned her. But why would he? Business, the project he was overseeing, consumed most of his thoughts, as it would any man.

Now she had a plan that would insure that she kept Sam. A plan, Kinsey believed, that Jared Mason, of all people, would understand.

Jared understood power. She’d seen it in him when she’d been in his hotel room. The way he held her arms, the way he blocked her exit from the room. Then at the boardinghouse, the gleam in his eye when he realized that he’d discovered she wasn’t Sam’s mother and that he’d gotten his way, that he’d won.

So if power was what Jared Mason understood, then power was what she’d show him.

Sheriff Isaac Vaughn stood on the little porch in front of the jailhouse staring down Main Street toward the Wild Cat Saloon. It was dark now and the streets were nearly deserted.

Isaac turned to her as she approached. In the dim light she saw the gentle shift in his expression, concern, worry that she was on the streets alone.

Isaac was a big man. Tall, solid. Tough, too. He had to be, given his job as sheriff. Yet Kinsey had never experienced that side of him. To her, Isaac was more an older brother. She’d gotten to know him better since Lily had come to work at the boardinghouse.

“Evening, Mrs. Templeton,” Isaac said, tipping his hat respectfully.

“Good evening, Sheriff,” she answered, standing next to him. “I know it’s late for me to be out alone, but something’s bothering me that I want to discuss with you.”

Isaac shifted. His expression hardened, as if preparing himself for bad news which, as sheriff, he often heard.

“It’s about you and Lily,” Kinsey said.

He seemed to wither slightly, the weight of the troubles with his wife bearing down on him for so long now it seemed difficult for him to stand up under the burden any longer.

Exactly what had driven Lily from the home she shared with Isaac during their three-year marriage had been speculated about by most everyone in Crystal Springs. Everyone had an opinion—it had been the most talked-about incident in town, until the church burned down. It was common knowledge what the two of them had been through, of course, and, collectively, the town’s heart had gone out to them.

Kinsey knew the whole truth, of course. She and Lily had grown close from all the hours they’d spent cooking and cleaning at the boardinghouse, and Lily had confided in her. Kinsey certainly wouldn’t betray Lily’s confidence by tattling to anyone and adding to the gossip that circulated through town about the couple.

“I told Lily when she came to the boardinghouse that I wouldn’t take sides between the two of you,” Kinsey said. “You’ll recall I told you the same.”

Cautiously, Isaac nodded.

“I haven’t said much, one way or the other, to either of you,” Kinsey pointed out. “I’ve listened to Lily’s side of things. Heard her out. Tried to comfort her, tried to be a friend.”

“You’ve been a good friend,” he said, “to both of us.”

Kinsey drewa breath and straightened her shoulders.

“I think that was a mistake on my part,” she told him.

“You do?”

“Yes. The truth is, I never agreed with Lily’s leaving you, moving out of your home, taking a job and living in Nell’s boardinghouse,” Kinsey said, then added softly, “Regardless of the circumstances.”

Isaac winced and glanced away.

“I intend to talk to her, try and convince her to meet with you, find a way for you two to put your lives back together and get over…what happened,” Kinsey said. “I wanted you to know that, Isaac.”

He nodded. “I appreciate that.”

“I should have done it sooner,” Kinsey admitted.

It was true. She’d never agreed with Lily’s decision but had held her tongue, thinking it was better to support her friend. She’d always intended to talk to Lily, make her feelings known.

Only now she had a compelling—no, selfish, she silently admitted—reason to do so.

A long silence stretched between them as Kinsey and the sheriff stood outside the jailhouse. Somewhere a dog barked. A pair of horses plodded down the street and their riders disappeared inside the Wild Cat. Lights burned in the hotel windows down the block and above the stores on Main Street.

Kinsey drew in another breath, summoning her courage.

“That new man in town,” she said, trying to sound casual. “That Mr. Mason staying at the hotel?”

Isaac’s shoulders straightened and his chest expanded. “Did he do something, Kinsey?”

The sheriff’s tone suggested he almost wished Jared had done something. As if Isaac would enjoy nothing more than taking out his pent-up hostility over his wife’s desertion on someone—anyone.

“I was just thinking,” Kinsey said, fighting the urge to twist her fingers together from the outrageous lie she was about to tell, “that Mr. Mason reminded me of that bank robber from Cold Creek whose picture was on the Wanted poster outside your office about a month ago. Did…did you happen to notice a resemblance?”

Isaac eyed her sharply and one eyebrow went up. “I might have.”

“I noticed the poster is gone now,” Kinsey said, waving to the spot behind her where the Wanted posters always hung. “I suppose that means the robber was caught. But, well, I was wondering if the sheriff in Cold Creek is certain he got the right man?”

Isaac stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I could send a telegram, find out for sure.”

“That would be prudent,” Kinsey agreed. “And, I suppose, you might be concerned that, if the robber really is Mr. Mason, that he might…commit another crime.”

Isaac nodded again. “Might be better if I got Mason off the streets.”

“The townsfolk would surely feel safer that way,” Kinsey said. “I know I’d feel safer.”

“I could lock him up.”

“Just until you found out for sure if he’s the robber,” Kinsey said. “Say, until Friday? That’s the day the train comes through. You could take him to the depot, make sure he leaves town—for the safety of the citizens, of course.”

“I could do that,” Isaac declared, his tone indicating that he would enjoy it, too.

“But I wouldn’t want him to get hurt,” Kinsey said quickly. “I know that accidents can happen—anywhere.”

“I’ll make sure Mason doesn’t have any accidents,” Isaac promised.

“Good.” Kinsey paused.