Heart Of A Lawman
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Having been nearly ready to plead for help, Josie firmly tightened her lips and nodded. Her eyes misted over as she stooped to lift her bag…and she winced because the movement hurt.
She noticed that Alcina had quickly glanced to the street behind her, no doubt looking for a vehicle. But she had no car and no money…no way of getting anywhere else but her thumb.
Sweeping a tangle of hair out of her face, Josie turned to go. Alcina stared, eyes wide. Josie knew she’d caught a look at the nasty bruise along the left side of her temple and cheek. She tried to hurry away then, before explanations were necessary, but the other woman put out a staying hand.
“Wait.”
Shoulders pressed down by the burden of having nowhere to go, Josie hesitated without looking directly at Alcina. She hated needing help. Hated being pitied as if she were a kicked dog or something as equally pitiful.
“What’s your name?” Alcina asked.
She softly replied, “Josie,” as she put her free hand to her middle, fingers tracing those initials on the belt buckle. She thought quickly. “Josie…Wales….”
“Josie Wales—now where have I heard that name before?” Alcina mused, pulling her mouth as if thinking about it. “Are you originally from these parts?”
“No.”
“Oh, well, it doesn’t matter, does it?” As if unable to help herself, Alcina said all in a rush, “I do have a small room off the kitchen that I don’t rent to tourists. Actually, it’s my ironing room, but there is a single bed and a dresser—nothing fancy.”
Josie snapped up her head. “I don’t need fancy.”
Relief poured through her, lightening her load. She blinked rapidly, stopping herself from outright crying.
Alcina rushed on. “And I guess the whole house could use a spring cleaning.”
“Spring?” Josie started. “But it’s fall…isn’t it?”
Confusion. Again.
Alcina said, “That it is, but it’s hard to get good help in a ghost town at any time of the year.”
“I’m willing to do anything you need.”
“C’mon inside, then. I’ll show you to your room, and after my guests finish their breakfast, I’ll feed you and give you the grand tour. You look like you could use a little rest. Then maybe later you can walk over to the grocery store and pick up a few things for me.”
“Anything! Thank you.”
Alcina stepped back to let her in. And yet she appeared troubled, as if she worried that she might have reason to regret her simple human kindness.
The flesh at the back of Josie’s neck prickled at the thought.
One last look out to the empty street reassuring her, she stepped inside and took a look around at the elegant Victorian decor, as, behind her, Alcina Dale firmly closed the door against the unknown.
FEELING A WHOLE LOT better on a full stomach and from a lie-down, and with the knowledge that she would have a roof over her head that night, Josie Wales set off for the small grocery store at the other end of Main Street.
Other end.
Three whole blocks, with only a handful of establishments lining the winding street cut through low hills open for business—café, law office, bar, whatnot, doctor’s office, home-and-feed, church, grocery, gas station.
And in between sat skeletal buildings in various stages of decay—reminders of a more prosperous era, as were those railroad tracks that went nowhere but along the boarded-up stagecoach stop. The single-story building of volcanic rock had wooden porches traversing the entire length of each side. Other rutted dirt roads on either side of Main Street led to a few dozen homes whose size, condition and state of occupancy varied, as well.
Just outside of Silver Springs, what was left of a row of miners’ shacks stood testament to the town’s origin—the old silver mine. Some were little more than stone foundations. As she’d hiked in from the highway, she couldn’t help but notice a strange-looking couple—squatters?—scurrying about the area, setting out displays that appeared to be made of animal bones. Odd, but nothing to unsettle her.
Not much to Silver Springs, Josie thought, but something about the town drew her, made her think she might be safe here.
Safe. Was she?
Despite the warmth of the late October afternoon, a chill swept through her, suddenly making her feel as if hostile eyes followed her every movement. She glanced around. Two women were chatting outside the doctor’s office across the street. A cowboy was hunkered on a bench outside the bar just ahead, his wide-brimmed hat bowed as if he were asleep. Behind her, an old junker of a car headed out of town. And at the end of the street, a fancy black SUV covered with red dust turned out of the gas station.
Nothing out of place…just like before, when the trucker had stopped his rig to let her out of the cab and she’d sworn someone was watching, though she hadn’t caught anyone at it…and yet…
What was wrong with her? No one could be following her. No one even knew where she was.
It was just that she hadn’t really felt safe since awakening in that hospital bed.
And now she was an outlaw on the run!
She glanced at the black SUV that crept along the street in her direction. The dark-haired driver seemed to be searching for something…or someone.
Her?
Muscles bunched, she was ready to bolt when he looked directly at her…through her…beyond her….
Realizing that she was of no interest to him, after all, Josie trembled with relief. Not that she could help being a bit paranoid. Undoubtedly that’s what was making her feel those invisible eyes on her.
Bringing her forefinger to her belt buckle, she traced the initials again and again.
J.W….J.W….J.W….
Josie Wales was as good a handle as any.
She had to calm down. Get herself straight. Make plans.
Stop imagining dangers where there were none.
Lost in thought, Josie at first ignored the faint sound coming from the abandoned building preceding the bar. But as she drew closer, she realized it was a cry of distress. Heart thumping, she slowed her step in the deep afternoon shadow cast by the structure and strained to hear.
A scrabble was followed by a sharp “Meow!”
A cat.
Relief shot through her. Just a stray animal.
But as she moved on, the cry grew pitiful, the scrabbling more frantic, and she stopped again as she drew even with the entrance.
“Mee-ooww!”
Josie closed her eyes and sighed. Undoubtedly she would be on a fool’s errand, but she couldn’t go on until she was certain the cat was all right.
The door hung crooked on its hinges and she had to throw her shoulder into the wood to budge it. The panel inched inward, then twisted so that the top hinge gave. Levering the unexpected weight, she took a quick look around, but nothing had changed—women still talking, cowboy still sleeping, SUV still inching along.
“Great. Add destruction of property to my crimes,” she muttered. “Not to mention breaking and entering.”
Another cat cry set her in motion.
Break and enter she did, stopping for a moment to let her eyes adjust, the interior being lit only by the smidgen of gray allowed through the grimy front windows, and that extending only a few yards before fading to pitch black.
How thrilling! she thought wryly. She’d never been able to see well in the dark….
Where had that thought come from?
Josie shook away another chill and concentrated.
Rubble decorated the interior of the abandoned shop as far as she could see—what was left of counters and shelves littered with plaster and rotting chunks of wood. As she moved with care, the floor squeaked and bounced beneath her boots. Her stomach tightened.
The place was dangerous, rotting, collapsing in on itself!
Stopping, she took a deep breath.
If any place could inspire paranoid delusions, this was it. Danger could lurk in every dark corner…in every inch of the area that she couldn’t see.
But of course it didn’t.
The only danger here was what she could inflict on herself.
Even so, reluctant to continue without reconnoitering, Josie softly called, “Kitty, where are you?”
A creak to her right startled her into stepping that way.
Until a loud “Mee-oow!” pulled her in the opposite direction.
For a second, she went rigid. Sounds from two directions? Then giddiness bubbled through her. The rotting wood was protesting, it being disturbed, was all. She veered left, feeling all but swallowed by the dark.
“Kitty, you owe me big time.”
She inched along until her foot hit something solid, the clank punctuated by a growl and a hiss.
Puzzled, she hunkered down. “Hey, I would never hurt you.” And reached out blindly, expecting to ruffle some fur. Instead, her fingers met an unexpected resistance, cold and hard. “What the heck…?”
Leaning forward, she ran her hand along the solid object and murmured reassurances. The cat continued to growl with increasing urgency. The angry-frightened protest raised the hair on the back of her neck even as Josie realized the poor animal was trapped in a cat carrier.
Who would leave a caged cat in an abandoned building?
Instinct snapped her upward, but upon rising, she whacked her shoulder into something ungiving. She took a misstep and twisted her ankle.
“Aah!”
Arms flailing, Josie tried to catch herself. She imagined hands on her even as she took another blind step. Rough hands. Hands that pushed her so that her boot heel came down hard and shoved right through some rotted boards.
For a second she felt suspended…her world turned upside down…a roller-coaster ride…only this time with no safety net….
Chapter Two
Josie fought the panic attack that threatened to engulf her. Shaking…lack of breath…heart threatening to pound right out of her chest.
She hadn’t fallen far, she told herself as rationally as she could—only to the rotting floor—but her boot had gone through the boards, ankle-deep. She tried to free herself. But no matter how she turned or twisted her foot, she couldn’t seem to manage it.
She was stuck!
Gasping for air, ribs and chest hurting where the seat belt had constrained her, she told herself to calm down. She was all right. She could get through this.
Unless…
Ghost memories of hands on her, touching her, pushing her, jumped back at her in a flash.
But had it really even happened?
She couldn’t say for certain. She only knew that same sensation of personal violation had invaded the deep unconscious from which she’d thought she would never awaken while in the hospital. That same sense of physical unease had pressed down on her then, too.
The same paranoia.
Josie willed herself to focus on any lurking danger, but she could no more see a threat in the dark than she could her own fingernails, which were digging painful little ditches in her palms.
Through fear-stiff lips she whispered, “Is someone there?”
Every muscle in her body tightened into knots as she waited for a response.
“Meow.”
She jumped. The cat! She’d almost forgotten….
“Yes, kitty, I’m still here.”
But was she the only one?
No noise alerted her to another presence. No sudden intake of breath. No stirring of foot against rubble. And the cat’s call had once more sounded pitiful rather than angry.
If any threat had been present a moment ago, surely now it was gone.
Not wanting to think too deeply on it, she muttered, “Give me a minute, kitty, and I’ll get us both out of here.” And willed her hands to unclench.
Panic receding, Josie carefully slid her bottom forward over creaking boards and hunched up as close to her foot as her aching middle would allow. Blindly, she felt for the problem. Ragged wood had gashed and caught the worn leather of her boot and held it fast in several places.
Concentrating on working herself free, Josie almost missed the import of several quiet footfalls coming at her.
Then her hands stiffened again and sweat popped down her spine. A wave of intense heat poured through her as she literally ripped at the wooden slivers trapping her boot. Carefully, she wiggled her foot and pulled…even as a bright light suddenly blinded her more effectively than had the dark.
“What are you up to?” came an arrogant male demand.
Freed at last, avoiding looking directly into the beam, Josie put out a hand to shade her eyes. All she could fathom was a dark silhouette against the bright light. Her impression was of a tall man, one broader than most. She cautiously rose, careful not to step back into trouble.
“Maybe you should be the one answering that,” she said more bravely than she was feeling.
“I’m not the one sneaking around here in the dark.”
“I wasn’t sneaking! I heard the cat—”
“What cat?” The disembodied voice sounded rife with suspicion.
Helpfully, the animal she’d been trying to rescue chose that moment to agree in the tiniest of voices—one Josie hadn’t before heard—almost as if the feline were satisfied that her rescue was imminent.
The bright beam moved away from her toward the sound. She followed its course and finally was able to see the object she’d been fumbling over—a cat carrier with a glowing-eyed occupant peering out hopefully at them.
“Meow.”
Josie reconnoitered, decided to get going and fast. But she wasn’t about to leave the animal she’d determined to rescue. Thinking she could use the carrier as a weapon if she needed to—only if forced, of course, lest she further scared the poor creature inside—Josie swooped down on the cage. Ignoring the pain that twinged through her middle, she grabbed hold of the handle and proceeded to bluff her way out of the place, a distant gray haze identifying the general area that would lead to the street.
“Wait a minute!”
She quickened her step toward the film of light ahead, muttering, “Forget it. I’m outta here!”
The beam turned and swept before her. “Have some light before you really hurt yourself.”
Josie didn’t so much as falter. She kept right on going, straight out the door. Just in case she needed some, she looked around for help. The street was deserted—no chatty women, no sleepy cowpoke. But the black SUV had been abandoned at the curb opposite.
Had the driver been looking for her, after all?
Knowing she was alone but for her furry companion, Josie flipped around and bravely faced him.
He was tall. He was broad. And he was definitely unhappy. A scowl marred an otherwise attractive face—rather, as much as she could see of it beneath his broad-brimmed black hat. His hard gaze met hers, trapping her as effectively as had the broken boards.
Any thanks for the rescue she might have uttered died on her lips.
“So what was this cat doing inside what should be a boarded-up building?”
His demand for an explanation immediately made her bristle. “Like I should know?”
“You obviously knew the cat was there.”
He moved closer to her, and his aura of power threatened to smother her. Normally she didn’t put credence to that sort of thing, but when her pulse lurched, Josie took a step back. Then she winced when the cat carrier smacked into a sore spot. A sudden acid taste in her mouth soured her mood further. If anyone had meant her harm in there, this man couldn’t have been the one, she assured herself, or he wouldn’t be asking so many questions.
Realizing that she probably had been alone, that she had spooked herself, and that her imagination had conjured some other “presence,” that, sensing her fear, the cat had appropriately responded to, Josie couldn’t figure out why this stranger had such a suffocating effect on her.
What in the world was wrong with her?
“I told you I heard the cat,” she finally said to break his invisible grip.
“And so you just went inside…”
“Right.”
“…and wandered around a decaying building blindly.”
“Why should I explain myself to you, anyhow?”
She tried pushing by him, but he caught her upper arm and held her fast. And though he didn’t hurt her, his fingers seemed to burn into her flesh right through the denim jacket. Her heart at first fluttered, then began to pound.
“We’re not done here.”
She went still and cold inside, and with difficulty, choked out, “What are you? A cop or something?”
The thought made her fight panic once more, if for a very different reason. What if there was a warrant for her arrest? What if he really had been searching for her?
His “Not exactly” didn’t exactly relieve her building anxiety.
“Then you won’t mind if I get going.” Pointedly, she stared at his hand on her arm until he let go. Her tense stomach relaxed and she trembled with relief.
“Where to?”
“Home.”
“You live in Silver Springs?”
Of course he would know everyone who lived in a town this small. “Well, I do for the moment…over at the Springs Bed-and-Breakfast.”
He seemed to digest that before musing, “The bed-and-breakfast, huh? Then what about the cat?”
Josie stared at him stupidly for a moment before it dawned on her. “Oh, right.”
She couldn’t just surprise the woman who’d been good enough to give her shelter with another mouth to feed…possibly an unappreciated mouth. Besides, the cat probably had an owner somewhere looking for her.
She raised the carrier and stared at the little white face edged by soft gray ears and a gray chin. Almond-shaped blue eyes stared back at her trustingly.
Josie asked, “You don’t happen to recognize her, do you?”
“Her?”
“The cat. Just a guess about the ‘her’ part,” she added hurriedly.
“Afraid not.”
“Maybe she knows how to get herself home.”
Not knowing what else to do, Josie set down the carrier and opened the door, all the while praying the owner would be glad to see the animal. Heaven forbid some irresponsible person had been trying to get rid of a pet…exactly what she feared, considering the circumstances.
But when the cat stepped out of her cage, she didn’t run off as Josie had expected. Instead, the animal pranced, showing off her beautiful white-and-gray coat, then arched her back and rubbed herself against Josie’s legs.
“She likes you.”
Caught by the man’s obvious amusement, Josie whipped up her head and frowned. “She just likes being out of the dark.” And she liked it better when he was being hostile.
“More than that,” he murmured, as the cat suddenly made a demanding sound and leaped straight up.
Instinctively, Josie caught the cat, who immediately settled in her arms, purring as though she was where she belonged.
“Oh, great, what do I do now?” she murmured.
When she glanced up, the man was watching her intently, his expression strange. For a moment, she was caught. Mesmerized by a pair of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. High cheekbones and a well-defined jawline gave his face an edge that only the slight cleft in his chin softened. Mouth dry, she stared back, vaguely aware that she was holding her breath.
“Meow!” the attention-deprived cat protested, jolting Josie into sucking in some much-needed air.
“So what are you going to do?” the man asked. “With the cat?”
“It doesn’t look like I have a choice at the moment, does it? I’ll have to take her with me.” Josie scratched the creature’s head and ran her fingers over the silky ears. “Don’t worry, Miss Kitty, we’ll figure out something until I can find your owner.”
And figure out how to feed the poor creature. “How are you at catching mice?”
The cat purred in answer.
“Doesn’t look like any mouser to me,” the man said, again seeming amused. Then he echoed, “Miss Kitty?”
“As good a name as any.”
“You wouldn’t have one, would you? A name, that is?”
“Josie Wales,” she said, this time without hesitation.
No harm in giving him a name that wasn’t even hers. The initials were right. She’d grabbed at the first thing that came to her mind. Still, she looked away from him and busied herself shushing Miss Kitty back into her carrier.
“Josie Wales?” He seemed about ready to challenge her, then said, “I’m Bart Quarrels over from the Curly-Q.”
Figuring the Curly-Q must be a local ranch, she nodded, lifted the occupied carrier once more and said, “I’d better be on my way, then.”
“Guess you’d better. I could give you a ride.”
“Not necessary. I like walking.” But a niggling at her conscience kept her from starting right off. “Hey, uh, Bart…Miss Kitty and I thank you for the rescue even if we didn’t need one.”
“I live to serve,” Bart said dryly.
Grinning despite herself, Josie set off, wondering how she was going to explain the cat to Alcina—not to mention the lack of those groceries she’d set out for.
BART WATCHED JOSIE WALES rush down the street, cat carrier in hand. Something odd about the woman. He couldn’t quite pin it down, but something was definitely off.
Had she been afraid of him simply because he’d given her a scare? Instinct and more than a dozen years in law enforcement told him there was more.
Having filled his gas tank and bought half a dozen rolls of film for Lainey, he’d merely been taking a good look around before going back to the Curly-Q when he’d spotted Josie walking down the street.
She’d seemed…furtive. He couldn’t describe her demeanor any other way.
Cop instincts kicking in, he’d watched her. And when she’d disappeared into the abandoned building, he’d naturally followed to see exactly what she’d been up to. Not that it was any of his business in the first place, he reminded himself as he climbed into the four-by-four.
He had to shake away her vulnerable yet spunky image. He had no business prying into her life any more than she had business in his. He’d turned in his deputy’s badge—at least figuratively—to work the Curly-Q. And he’d better get back to the ranch and his kids—as far as Bart was concerned, his only responsibilities in the foreseeable future.
EMMETT QUARRELS grinned to himself as he listened to the house come alive around him. Thunking footsteps…raised voices…blasting music, if a body could call it that. Sweet, sweet sounds.
For too many years, it had been just him rattling around these rooms until he was nigh sick unto death of his own miserable company. If not for Felice,he would long ago have gone stark, raving mad. But Felice, as fond as he was of her, wasn’t family.
And if he hadn’t done something drastic, he might never have seen his grandkids again, now that their mother was gone. Sara, Bart’s late wife, had always done right by him—he’d say that for her.
His three boys had all abandoned him and the Curly-Q years ago like each of their mothers had before them, but he’d finally fixed that.
Not that he’d had a choice in the matter.
Now they would all come home like their mothers never had.
A soft knock at the door startled him out of his reclining chair, where he’d been reading his latest Modern Rancher Magazine.
“That you, Felice?”
“No, Pa, it’s me, Bart.”
Heart lurching, Emmett quickly dropped the magazine and slid onto the made four-poster bed, pulling the afghan Felice had crocheted for him last Christmas up to his waist.
“C’mon in, son.”
The door swung open and in stepped his oldest. With his thick dark hair, deep blue eyes, and a six-foot-plus, muscular physique that only hinted at his real strength, Barton was the spitting image of Emmett himself when he’d been young. And, though his oldest would never admit it, they were a lot more alike than mere looks conveyed.
“Pa.”
Those blue eyes were searching him far more closely than made Emmett comfortable. He pulled the afghan a little higher and mumbled, “You’re looking fit, son.”
“And you’re looking better’n I expected.”
“I have my good days as well as bad.” Emmett coughed, the sound more of a wheeze than anything of substance. “Doc says I’m almost ready to get back to work…uh, nothing strenuous, of course.”