Salvation in the Sheriff's Kiss
She pushed herself up in one swift movement, the crumpled, crying mess he’d come upon already a thing of the past. In her place, stood the determined, confident woman he’d come face-to-face with yesterday. He barely had time to get to his feet and no time at all to hold out a hand to aid her. By the time he found his own footing, she was busy dusting off bits of grass and dirt that clung to her skirts.
“As it turns out, that was my next stop. I mean to speak to Bill Yucton.”
“Meredith...”
Anger spiked the color in her cheeks and her hands twitched where she’d pulled her shawl tight against her chest. “Don’t you Meredith me, Hunter Donovan. What I do is no longer your concern. You lost that right a long time ago.”
Exasperation filled him. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” he said, but she wasn’t interested in listening. She’d gathered her skirts in one hand and brushed past him, following the path back to town. “Dammit.” He tossed the old bouquet to the ground and stalked after her.
“Don’t try and stop me,” she warned, keeping her gaze fixed straight ahead.
“I’m not trying to stop you. I’m trying to warn you!” Lord help him, had she always been this stubborn?
She stopped suddenly and he had to practically dance a jig to keep from barreling into her. “Warn me about what?”
He danced around the idea of telling her what Yucton had said to him. Could she have a piece of the puzzle without even realizing it? Maybe, but he was still reluctant to involve her.
And he definitely didn’t want to tell her the whole truth. That he hadn’t wanted to send her away. That he’d regretted his decision the moment the stagecoach had pulled away from the station. She had enough to contend with right now and what would it matter anyway? What was done couldn’t be undone. Still, if she knew something...
“Have you ever heard of the Syndicate?”
Her nose crinkled in confusion and for a fleeting second the girl he used to know surfaced from beneath the finery once again. “The what?”
He had his answer. Guile and deception had never been a part of Meredith’s makeup and though she now wore fancy dresses and had the lofty manners to match, he’d bet his last dollar her insides remained the same, even if her heart had changed. She didn’t know the first thing about this mysterious Syndicate both McLaren and Yucton had mentioned and he wasn’t about to inform her. Not that he had much to tell her. Either way, the less she was involved the better. Abbott might be dead but the promise Hunter had made him still stood. Whether he liked it or not.
He waved a hand. “Nothing. Never mind. C’mon, I’ll walk you back to the office.”
She ignored his proffered arm and marched ahead of him. He stood in place a moment and watched her walk away. Her straight spine and rigid shoulders made the gentle sway of her hips all the more enticing. Regret crept in with a sad finality as he realized he couldn’t breathe life back into the embers of a fire that had gone out long ago.
Especially when he had been the one to douse those embers in the first place.
* * *
Meredith ignored the gazes she and Hunter collected as they made their way back to the jailhouse. She knew how the town worked. News of her homecoming had likely rippled through its underbelly and by sunrise this morning everyone living in close proximity of the town’s core would be apprised of her return. By evening everyone on the outskirts would be aware, as well. And they would also know she had returned a woman of means.
She tried not to think of the dent the ruse put in her small nest egg. She only needed to keep it up long enough to get people’s attention and enlist their help. A jury of men from this town had found her father guilty. Now she needed them to admit they were wrong. That the full scope of evidence hadn’t been presented.
That he had been framed.
She would need the town on her side to do this. If there was one thing experience had taught her, it was that the more money you had, the more respect you were given, the more influence you could wield. She needed all of that now.
But first she had to feel the pulse of the town. Figure out who was best placed to help her. She thought of her old friend Rachel Beckett and wondered if she dared a visit. She had been Rachel Sutter when Meredith had left town, but had since remarried a man by the name of Caleb Beckett according to Bertram. She and Rachel had lost touch during her father’s trial and perhaps her old friend no longer wished an acquaintance. She wouldn’t have been the first friend Meredith lost after her father’s arrest, but she had been the one she missed the most. Not that it had been Rachel’s fault. Rachel had had her own problems to deal with, and Meredith hadn’t wanted to burden her with hers. Besides, she’d had Hunter to lean on. Or so she had thought.
She turned to ask Hunter about Rachel, but when she glanced over at his profile, carved against the stark landscape, the words wouldn’t come. She didn’t want to engage with him as if they were old friends. They weren’t. He had broken her heart and while seven years may have passed since then, the hurt had not healed. She’d thought it had, but returning to Salvation Falls and seeing him in the flesh had torn the wound open once again. She didn’t want to ask him about Rachel. What she really wanted to do was beat on his chest in anger and ask him why. Why had he done it?
Pride stayed her tongue.
By the time they reached his office, the silence had stretched to an uncomfortable tension. He walked up the steps in front of her and rested his hand on the door handle. He stopped and faced her, his body barring her way.
“I wish you’d reconsider.”
“Reconsider?”
“About staying. Settling here. Trying to change the past. Your pa is gone, Meredith, and I’m right sorry about that. I know how much you loved him. But digging all of this up again? It’s just going to cause you more pain. Maybe you should think about going back to Boston.”
The wound opened a little wider. It hurt her heart to think of how broken things had become. Once they had shared something beautiful, something that filled every part of her. She had believed it would last forever, was certain he shared the same feelings. She’d been wrong. All these years later and he still didn’t want the reminder of her. Of the mistake he’d made.
“Boston is not my home. It never was. There’s nothing left for me there.”
“There’s nothing left for you here either.” His stern voice burned across her skin.
Aunt Erma had promised her broken hearts healed, but what she hadn’t told her was that when the pieces were stitched back together they would no longer fit properly. She hadn’t realized it at the time, but seeing Hunter now she understood it to be true. With each beat of her heart, the hurt pulsed deep and unforgiving, reminding her of everything she’d lost. If she’d ever really had it in the first place.
“This is my home.” She fought to keep her voice steady. “And my father deserves to rest easy in his grave knowing his name has been cleared of any wrong-doing. Wouldn’t you do the same if it was your father?”
He didn’t answer, but his expression tightened. “Then you’re determined to stay?”
She walked up the stairs and stopped in front of him. Being this close was dangerous. The heat in her body rose to the surface and she could feel her skin tingle. A deep longing coaxed her to move closer, to give in to her body’s craving to have him hold her. Would he? She shook the question off, irritated with her thoughts, the way they kept circling back to him. He was her past, and while she may need to deal with him in her present, he had no place in her future. He’d made his feelings on that matter perfectly clear.
“I am staying and I’m proving my father’s innocence. Now, I would appreciate it if you would step aside and let me pass.”
He ignored her request. “I don’t see the point in what you’re doing. Your pa is gone. It isn’t going to matter to him what people think.”
“It matters to me. I don’t expect you to understand.” His family had wealth, privilege and a good name. What had he ever struggled for?
Hunter hung his head and let out a slow breath. When he looked back up, myriad emotions warred in his dark eyes. She’d lost herself in those eyes once and the pull of them had not lessened over time.
“It isn’t that I don’t understand.” His voice softened and only increased the potency. She struggled against it, against the small voice that longed for what he said to be true, the sense that she wasn’t alone in this. “I know you loved your pa. I know you want to clear his name. I just don’t want to see you get hurt—”
His words broke the spell his voice wound around her. What did he know of hurt? He had used her and tossed her aside, cutting her so deep the gash refused to heal.
“You weren’t concerned with hurting me when you told me I wasn’t good enough to be a Donovan.”
The harsh words he’d said had carved themselves into her heart, imprinted on her soul. They had shared one passionate night together. She spent one glorious week dreaming of the life they would have together as man and wife, a much-needed respite of happiness as she struggled to come to terms with her father’s sentence. It had given her something to hang on to when everything else had turned dark.
But it had all been a lie. What she had given him meant nothing. She had meant nothing. No. Worse—she was nothing. Not to him.
The last image she had of Salvation Falls was seeing him walk away from her before the stagecoach had even pulled away from the livery station. He hadn’t said goodbye, hadn’t wished her well. Hadn’t changed his mind and told her it was all a cruel joke.
“Meredith, I never meant—”
“No.” She sliced her hand through the air and cut off the rest of his words. She couldn’t bear to hear them. And what could he say? That he’d never meant to say he loved her in the first place? That he shouldn’t have led her on and made promises he had no intentions of keeping? “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Except that it did. And she hated that fact more than all the others.
She pulled her shoulders back and took a deep breath. “I have no desire to relive the past or stand here discussing it with you. If you never planned on marrying me, you should have never taken things as far as you did. Now we both have to live with the consequences. I’m sorry we have to deal with each other now, but there’s little to be done about it. You can rest assured, however, once I prove my father’s innocence we need not bother with each other ever again save for a polite nod if we pass on the street. Now please, step aside.”
The idea saddened her. Despite everything, the hurt, the anger, the betrayal. Maybe that had something to do with the wrongness of the way her heart had pieced itself back together. She didn’t know. But she couldn’t worry about it now. Now she had to focus on what she’d come here to do.
Hunter looked as if he wanted to say something else, but whatever it was hovered unspoken in the silence left between them and in the end, he did as she asked and opened the door, stepping to one side to let her pass.
Chapter Five
Hunter kept silent as she passed, wishing he could tell her the truth, but what good would it do them now? So much water had passed under their bridge it was a wonder they hadn’t drowned in the overflow. Would she care that the reason he had walked away from the stage before she even pulled out of the station was because he couldn’t stand the thought of watching her leave? Knowing it was happening had been bad enough, witnessing it was something else entirely.
He knew without a doubt if he’d had to stand there and watch her leave, he would have hauled her off that stage without a moment’s hesitation, her safety and the promises he’d made be damned.
So he’d walked away before it came to that. He couldn’t put his own wants and needs first. He may not have fully understood what was going on, but instinct told him if Abbott was adamant she be kept safe, he needed to do it. He didn’t have a choice.
Hunter followed Meredith into the office and stopped abruptly. Near Yucton’s cell, a tall lanky stranger stood with his back to them. He reacted instantly and grabbed Meredith by the arm, shoving her behind him as the stranger turned around.
“What do you think you’re do—”
Hunter held on to her arm to keep her in place, then raised his voice to drown her out. “Who are you? Jenkins!”
“Out here choppin’ some wood, Sheriff,” Jenkins called out, his voice filtering from around the back of the jailhouse, through the window he kept open a crack to keep the air from getting stale. “There’s a man here to see Bill but I told him he should talk to you first!”
Hunter shook his head. What his deputy had in brawn he lacked in judgment. It did not bode well for the future of the town once Hunter stepped down. He gave the stranger a hard stare. “What’s your business here?”
Beneath the stranger’s thin moustache, a painted-on smile plastered itself across his bland face. As it did so, Hunter noticed Yucton sitting on the edge of the bed partially hidden by shadow. The outlaw made a small, swift motion with his hand and, much to Hunter’s surprise, Meredith stopped struggling.
“Good day. You must be Sheriff Donovan.” The man stepped forward, his hand extended. Hunter didn’t bother taking it. No point makin’ friendly until he knew what the man was about. Though whatever that was, he was already forming the opinion he didn’t like him. Trussed up in a fancy suit, he reminded Hunter of someone you’d see peddling an elixir on the thoroughfare claiming it would cure all your ills. Men like that usually wanted something, and after his setdown from Meredith, he wasn’t in a giving mood.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
The stranger’s hand dropped and his smile grew more forced. “Of course, how ill-mannered of me. My name is Wallace Platt.”
Hunter noted the Southern lilt to the man’s speech. An outsider. “Not familiar. What are you doing in my jail?”
Yucton’s lazy drawl drifted out from the middle cell. “Says he’s my lawyer.”
“That’s what he says, huh?” Yucton had been taking up space in the middle jail cell for over two weeks now and not once during that time had he made any kind of move to employ legal counsel. Nor had he bothered curing Hunter’s curiosity as to why that was. It was as if the man was biding his time—but for what? “Didn’t know you’d hired one.”
“I didn’t.”
Hunter turned his attention back to Platt. “Care to shed some light?”
The smile on Platt’s face became pinched and a red stain tinted his pale skin. It didn’t look like the man spent much time out of doors. City type, no doubt. Hunter didn’t necessarily have a stringent dislike for city folk, he just didn’t trust them was all. Especially not the namby-pamby type standing in front of him now.
“I’m not in the habit of explaining myself, Sheriff.”
“You could always leave,” Hunter suggested, nodding toward the open door.
“I’m afraid I can’t. I need to speak to my client.”
“Your client doesn’t appear to return those feelings. You want to speak to this man, Yucton?”
“Can’t say that I do, Sheriff.”
Hunter shrugged. “See.”
“Think I might represent myself.”
Platt spun on his well-shod heel to face the cell again. “Mr. Yucton, it is a commonly held belief that a man who represents himself—”
“Ain’t interested in your beliefs,” Yucton said, cutting him off.
Frustration colored Platt’s tone. “I didn’t say it was my belief, Mr. Yucton. I said it was—”
“Then you won’t mind if I ignore it.”
Hunter’s estimation of his prisoner raised a notch.
“I get the sense Yucton here isn’t the one who hired you. Which leads me to the question—who did?” Hunter didn’t like this. Yucton was allegedly one of the rustlers who had stolen his father’s cattle all those years ago. Why would anyone care enough about it, or Yucton, to pay for some fancy lawyer from who knows where to represent him? It didn’t sit right. There was a lot of things not sitting right lately. If this kept up, he’d find himself running out of chairs real soon.
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to comment on that. You see, my benefactor—and yours, Mr. Yucton—wishes to remain anonymous. Suffice to say, he is interested in ensuring Mr. Yucton receives a vigorous and skillful defense against the pending charges.”
Yucton snorted. “And they sent you?”
Hunter pursed his lips together to keep his smirk in check. Behind him, however, Meredith’s muffled laugh rippled up to tease him. He wished he could turn around and see it. He hadn’t heard her laugh in longer than he could remember, but he hadn’t forgotten the way her eyes danced when she did.
Dammit. Focus, Donovan.
Platt cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder at Hunter. Irritation flashed in his eyes and the smarmy smile disappeared.
“I can assure you, Mr. Yucton, I have much experience in these matters and I am certain I can be of great service to you.”
“Not interested.”
Platt ignored the rejection. “I will give you the day to think on it and return on the morrow.”
Yucton grunted in response. “Return on whatever morrow you want. Won’t be changing my mind.”
Platt turned away from the occupied cell and fixed his snake oil salesman smile back in place. “I expect I will be allowed to see my client tomorrow, Sheriff.”
Hunter shrugged. “The man isn’t going anywhere.” He wasn’t thrilled about Platt and his pompous attitude gracing his office again, but there was something fishy about the man, and better he keep him in his sights until he figured out what was going on and who this so-called mysterious benefactor was.
Dig deeper.
Platt headed toward the door but stopped when he reached Hunter. He looked past him to where Meredith peeked around his shoulder.
“My apologies, madam. I did not see you standing there or I would have introduced myself to you directly. Mr. Wallace Platt, at your service.” Platt executed a courtly bow. When he straightened, he glanced at Hunter expectantly.
Hunter ignored him. He couldn’t conjure any good reason to introduce Meredith to the likes of this dandified Southerner. Meredith, unfortunately, did not feel the same. She elbowed past his protective barrier and held out her hand. He watched in disgust as Platt bowed over it. Lucky for him, he didn’t raise it to his lips. If he had, Hunter was more than prepared to plant him into next week. He wasn’t sure what irritated him more—the fact that she didn’t appreciate he was only trying to protect her, or this ridiculous sense of proprietorship he felt toward her. She didn’t belong to him. A fact his head had accepted but failed to relay to his heart. Or other parts of him for that matter.
“You’ll have to excuse the sheriff, Mr. Platt. Manners were never his strong suit. I suppose those of us who have come from away can appreciate their usefulness a bit more. Miss Meredith Connolly.” She gifted the lawyer with a smile so sweet Hunter’s teeth ached.
“It is indeed my honor to make your acquaintance, ma’am. And where might away be for you, Miss Connolly, if it is not too impertinent of me to ask?”
He had yet to let go of her hand. Hunter gritted his teeth against the surge of possessiveness that erupted within him. Planting Platt into next week was beginning to look like a stellar idea. He curled his hand into a tight fist.
“Boston, Mr. Platt. And you? I assume from your accent you do not hail from these parts?”
“Alas, no. From the fine state of Virginia originally. San Francisco most recently.”
“How lovely.”
“It’s positively wonderful,” Hunter drawled out, unable to keep his growing irritation from lacing its way through each word. “Now if you’ll excuse us, Platt. I have things to do and seein’ as how your supposed client isn’t interested in having you as his lawyer, I don’t see much reason for you to hang around.”
Platt didn’t bother looking at him. He was too busy making cow eyes at Meredith. “Perhaps we’ll meet again, Miss Connolly. I always feel it is nice to make as many friends as possible when one is a stranger in a new place. It would be my pleasure to count a lovely lady like yourself among them.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Platt. And I agree— one cannot have too many friends. I look forward to furthering our acquaintance.”
Hunter waited until Platt closed the door behind him upon his exit, then turned on Meredith. “What the hell was that all about?”
The words were out before he could stop them. She blinked at him, her eyes pools of innocent blue. She dropped her gaze to her gloves and slowly pulled them off, one finger at a time. “I have no idea what you’re talking about? I was merely being polite to a stranger.”
He glared down at her. His agitation grew with her feigned innocence. For crying out loud, she’d all but swooned at Platt’s pretty words. “Well you might want to learn more about the damn stranger before you start cozying up to him like he was your new best friend.”
She pulled off her second glove then smiled up at him. “I hardly think one has to take a man’s measure before they decide whether or not to be polite. Perhaps you should try it. Your manners could use a little brushing up. They’re hardly up to the Donovan standard, now are they? Oh no, wait,” her brow furrowed, “of course they are. You Donovans always had a habit of assuming money meant you didn’t need manners, if I recall?”
The barb hit its intended mark. “My manners are just fine, thank you.”
She offered him a dubious look then brushed past him and walked to Yucton’s cell her hips tormenting him with their gentle sway. Her dismissal and low opinion left a gaping emptiness inside of him. Is this how she’d felt when he’d jilted her? No wonder she disliked him with such intensity.
* * *
“Good morning, Bill. It is lovely to see you again.”
Yucton stood and held his hands out through the bars that separated them. She grasped them like an old friend.
“Still able to charm any gentleman that crosses your path, I see.”
Meredith laughed and took the older man’s hands in her own. They were warm and rough, a lifetime of hard living worn into them. “I may have learned a thing or two while navigating Boston’s high society.” Granted, it was as their seamstress, but Hunter didn’t need to know that. Let him think she was now on a social par with him, even if it was nothing more than a ruse. It would serve him right.
“That a fact? And have you given any thought to returning to Boston? Sounds like you had a nice life going for yourself there? Sure be a shame to give something like that up.”
Meredith scowled at Bill. “Why is everyone trying to pack me off and send me back to Boston? I appreciate Aunt Erma taking me in, but that didn’t make it home. My heart always longed for the fresh mountain air and wide-open spaces. What brought you back, Bill?”
She was thankful he let the matter drop. She didn’t want to argue with him. “Figured you’d come home when you learned about your pa’s passing. Thought I’d head back this way. Make sure you was all right. Your pa died an innocent man. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”
She squeezed Bill’s hands and pulled strength from them. Pa was gone for good. Seeing his grave marker had driven the reality of it home. She fought back the tears from earlier. There was no time for such things now.
“I’m afraid you and I are in the minority on that belief.”
“It’s no belief. It’s a plain and simple fact.” Bill smiled and his eyes creased deeply at the corners. She noted his hair was grayer than she remembered and the lines of his face had burrowed a little deeper. “He was so proud of you. Told me so himself.”
Meredith’s throat tightened. She took a deep breath and swallowed past it. “I wish you hadn’t made the trip back. Now look at you.” Guilt swept through her. Bill had always been a close friend of her father’s. Steady and reliable, though he drifted in and out of their lives from time to time. She understood as she got older it was because of his penchant for living on the outskirts of the law. She always wished he’d chosen a different path, but it hadn’t diminished her affection for one of the few men to be a true friend to her father.