has the child with him, I’d say he has a perfect right to him. Being his father gives him that, legally.”
“Even if that man killed my sister?” Her voice was choked with tears as she spoke the question, and he hesitated to reply, knowing she would resent his answer.
“You have no proof of that, do you?” Before she could respond, he held up a hand and continued. “If the law thought there was any chance of such a thing, they’d have been on his trail faster’n you could—well, pretty damn quick,” he said, altering his reply for female company.
“Men always believe other men.” She spit the words at him and he heard the unspoken message. She’d been shunted aside, given short shrift by the lawmen in question. And perhaps with good reason. Then again, she seemed like an intelligent female. Maybe there was more to this than was visible on the surface.
“And you have no idea why he came here?” Brace asked.
She shook her head, and once more her hair shifted with the movement, seeming almost alive, with waves falling upon her shoulders and back. Enough to distract a man, Brace decided, unable to conceal the admiring glance he turned upon her. She was young, not looking to be more than twenty—too young for a man like him to be considering.
Her eyes were in shadow and he bent toward her, lifting her chin a bit, the better to see the blue depths. With a sharp movement she twisted her head, effectively removing his hand from her skin. He allowed it without an argument. He’d seen the moment of panic she’d attempted to hide, noted the automatic withdrawal from his touch.
Straightening slowly, he watched her, willing her to shift in the chair, waiting for the long moments of silence to have an effect. And waited in vain.
Sarah Murphy would no doubt make a good hunter, possessing the ability to remain still and in one position for however long it might take for a deer to leave its hiding place and meander across her path. Brace could almost envision such a scene, and then he smiled at his fanciful thoughts.
“You think this is humorous?” she asked. “You’re enjoying keeping me here?” Her chin tilted again, this time at her own volition, and her gaze touched his with a stony glare. “If Les is leaving town while you stand there leaning on your desk, it won’t make much of a difference. I’ll still find him, no matter where he goes.”
Brace shook his head. “Not tonight, you won’t.” He reached behind him, opened the desk drawer and removed a ring of keys. They jangled at his touch, and he palmed them, then stood erect. “You need to use the necessary before I put you in a cell?” he asked politely. “There’s one out back.”
He watched the blush climb her cheeks, painting her throat and then suffusing her face with color. “You’re determined not to leave me any self-respect, aren’t you?” Her jaw clenched, and again her hair caught the light as she tossed her head defiantly.
“I’d think you’d rather use the outdoor facility than the slop pail in your cell,” he said reasonably. “Up to you.”
“What’s the charge against me?” she asked, obviously reluctant to accompany him to a cell.
“Vagrancy, for now,” he told her. “I’ll decide in the morning if I need to jail you for threatening to murder a man. All depends on how the night goes.”
“How the night goes? What is that supposed to mean?” Her face lost its rosy hue quickly as she responded to his statement. Then she rose with care, as if her legs required a bit of coaxing in order to hold her upright. “Lead the way, Sheriff,” she said.
“First, let’s see if you’re wearing a weapon,” he said mildly. “If you were planning on shooting a man, chances are you have access to a gun.” He cast a measuring glance at her and couldn’t resist a smile. “Can’t see where you’re hidin’ it, though. Those pants fit you like a glove.”
“Are you going to search me?” she asked. “Shall I empty my pockets?”
“Are you armed?” he returned, taking one long step, looking down at her from closer range.
She shook her head. “No. I have a gun in my saddlebag.” And then she shrugged. “Unless you count the knife in my pocket, I’m not much of a threat to you.”
“Let’s have the knife,” he said, holding out his hand.
She slid slender fingers into her side pocket and withdrew a small penknife, placing it onto his palm with a slap. “There you are. Did you feel threatened?”
“Any weapon is dangerous if its user is intent on causing bodily harm,” he answered quietly. “This little knife could do a lot of damage.”
“Well, all it’s been used for up until now is cutting branches to use for bedding and for a spit over my fire.”
Brace slid it into his pocket. “For tonight, it’ll be safe with me,” he told her. “Now, have you decided about the trip out back?”
“I suppose you’re coming along.” Her words were a statement of fact, he decided, and he answered in like form.
“You’d better believe it, ma’am.”
He lifted a hand toward the back door of the jail, and she led the way past two empty cells and then opened the door to the outside. The darkness was almost solid before them, the moon hidden behind a cloud, the stars barely seen. The faint outline of a small building gave notice of her destination, and Sarah walked toward it.
“Do I get to go in alone?” she asked, her hand on the latch.
“Now, Miss Sarah, you should know better than to ask that. I’m not a man given to looking where I’ve not been invited. I’ll just wait right here.”
She pulled the door closed behind her and he grinned into the darkness. Damn, she was a handful. He’d give much to keep her around for a while, but overnight was probably as far as he could go without causing an uproar, should the ladies in town hear of it. Turning his back on the outhouse, he folded his arms across his chest and waited.
Standing with her hand on the latch wasn’t getting her anywhere, Sarah decided. The knowledge that the lawman waited outside, just six feet away, was daunting, the presence of a jail cell with her name on it even more so. She’d never been in jail. Indeed, had never had a run-in with the law in any way, shape or form. Unless she counted the sheriff who’d checked out Sierra’s death and uttered bland words of sympathy.
The door opened silently, but the sheriff turned to face her without hesitation. His face was a blurred shadow in the night, the shine of the silver star on his shirt allowing her to spot his form before her. Walking beside him, she headed for the jailhouse and reached for the door. The light from the lawman’s office cast a gleam before her and she stepped inside the hallway and waited for him.
“I’ll get you a bucket of water and a towel,” he offered, gripping her elbow and crossing to the first cell. Using the largest key on his ring, he opened the door and swung it wide, ushering her inside.
Without protest she obeyed his unspoken order and stepped into the small cubicle. Just large enough for a simple cot, a chair and the aforementioned slop pail in one corner, it was barren of any comforts, and she scanned the bed she would use for the night.
“I’ll get a blanket and see if I can scout up a pillow for you,” the sheriff said.
“Don’t you have many prisoners, Sheriff?” she asked. “I’d think these lovely rooms would come complete with furnishings.”
“Nope. Benning is a pretty quiet town. Not much doing usually.”
“No wonder you were so thrilled with finding a lawbreaker like me on the premises,” she said caustically. The cot beckoned, and she made a deliberate effort to appear nonchalant as she walked across the cell and sat down.
He stood in the open door of her accommodations and slid one hand into his pocket. “I’ll be right back with all the comforts