The Dreammaker. Judith Stacy

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СКАЧАТЬ course. My dear husband Harvey—the rat—and I were married some time ago. I knew little about him, except that he traveled a great deal. When I read his obituary in the newspaper I was devastated, of course. So, here I am to collect his belongings. What could be simpler than that?”

      “What if the sheriff doesn’t believe you?”

      Kaitlin wagged her finger at Isabelle. “Are you doubting my acting abilities?”

      “But what if there really is a Mrs. Harvey Stutz?”

      “He’s been dead over a month now. Any legitimate wife would have already come forward—if there’s a woman out there stupid enough to have actually married a crook like him.” Kaitlin nodded confidently. “And, if one should show up, I’ll just be devastated that Harvey married me too, and run crying from the sheriff’s office.”

      “Well, I guess you’ve thought of everything.”

      “Don’t worry.” Kaitlin patted her belly. “Junior and I will be back within the hour, then we’ll be on our way home.”

      Isabelle wrung her hands. “Just be careful.”

      Kaitlin left the hotel room ready to give the performance of a lifetime. She’d learned about performing, mostly from her mother. But then Harvey Stutz had come along and taught her what it could really mean, what it could lead to. Harvey, who used his own acting talents to con unsuspecting, young women out of their money. Even now, it galled Kaitlin that she’d been so gullible.

      In the hallway she made certain no other hotel guests were about, then hurried down the stairs to the lobby. The young man behind the desk was busy with a couple and their three fidgeting children and didn’t even look her way as she crept out the front door.

      The noon sun brightened everything, even from behind her black veil. Horses, wagons and carriages crowded the dirt street, pedestrians moved slowly along the boardwalk.

      Odd, but everyone seemed to get out of her way, stepping aside, giving her plenty of room to pass. Men she didn’t know tipped their hats. Kaitlin thought her black mourning dress was the reason, then realized every man she passed gazed at her belly first before looking at her veiled face. Decidedly uncomfortable, Kaitlin hurried to the sheriffs office down the block and went inside.

      The place smelled of coffee and gun oil. Across the small office sat a desk cluttered with papers. Rifles hung in racks on the walls flanked by Wanted posters. A dark corridor allowed Kaitlin a glimpse of iron bars. She shuddered, Isabelle’s dire warnings coming back to her.

      “Help you, ma’am?”

      The deep voice from the opposite side of the room startled her. She jumped as she saw two men standing at the potbellied stove in the corner, and touched her hand to her bulging stomach.

      “Take it easy now, ma’am.”

      A man—his gaze glued to her belly—hurried over. Gray hair showed below the brim of his hat and a badge hung on his vest. He cupped her elbow.

      “Just come have a seat, ma’am. Don’t get yourself all upset. Doc’s out of town and we don’t want no surprises.”

      The sheriff led her to the chair in front of his desk. “Get some water over here for the lady, will you Callihan?”

      Kaitlin plopped into the chair, her huge belly bulging out in front of her. She shifted awkwardly. Mercy, this thing was uncomfortable.

      “You want to put your feet up? My missus, she always wanted to put her feet up,” the sheriff said.

      Kaitlin nearly gasped aloud. Good grief, if she raised her feet she’d surely tumble backward out of the chair.

      “No, thank you, Sheriff.”

      “You just take it easy. Callihan, get that water over here, will you? Ma’am, you want me to get Mrs. Neff from next door? She’s birthed a bunch of young’uns herself. I’ll go get her. She’s right next door.”

      Kaitlin nearly panicked. That was the last thing she needed. “I’m fine, Sheriff, really. Thank you.”

      “Here, just drink some water. Callihan, give her the water.”

      The other man stepped to her side. She sensed him before she actually saw him, a forceful, masculine presence. Slowly she lifted her gaze. Long legs, lean hips, a broad chest covered in black. A strong jaw, lips set in a thin line, a straight nose. Eyes, blue as the ocean. A black hat pulled low on his forehead.

      Kaitlin’s mouth sagged open as her heart pounded its way into her throat. Breath left her in a sickly wheeze.

      “Here.”

      He shoved the tin cup at her. Kaitlin gulped and reached for it. Their fingers brushed. For an instant they both hung there, their gazes locked. Then he turned quickly and walked to the opposite side of the desk.

      Kaitlin lifted the veil off her face wishing she could dump the water down her bodice to cool the strange heat that enveloped her. Instead, she sipped slowly.

      “You feeling better, ma’am?” the sheriff asked.

      She cleared her throat and set the cup aside. “Yes, Sheriff, thank you.”

      “Good.” He dragged his sleeve across his forehead. “I guess you must be Mrs. Stutz?”

      “Who?”

      The sheriff frowned. “Harvey Stutz’s widow.”

      “Oh, yes. Yes, I am.” Kaitlin glanced at the man in the corner and shifted in her chair. She lowered her eyes demurely. “Yes, dear Harvey was my husband.”

      The sheriff touched his finger to the brim of his hat. “Real sorry about your loss, Mrs. Stutz. Real sorry.”

      “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

      “Well, let’s get on with this.” He bustled around his desk. “I’m Sheriff Newell and this here is Mr. Callihan. Tripp Callihan.”

      Kaitlin dared lift her gaze to the man in the corner. He was already watching her and spared her no more than a brief nod.

      Who was this man? Kaitlin looked away, but felt the heat of his gaze burning into her face. Was he a deputy? He had no badge pinned to his chest. Surely not a criminal, walking freely in the sheriffs office, but Mr. Tripp Callihan had a dangerous look about him, just the same.

      Kaitlin forced her gaze away from him. “I understand, Sheriff, that you have my husband’s belongings.”

      Sheriff Newell cleared his throat and glanced at Tripp. “Well, yeah, I do. But there’s a little problem, Mrs. Stutz. You see, Mr. Callihan read my notice in the paper and came to town just like you. He’s put in a claim on your husband’s things, too.”

      Kaitlin’s back stiffened. So that’s why he was’ here. She hadn’t counted on this. And she didn’t know if that meant Tripp Callihan was Harvey Stutz’s partner in crime, or another one of his victims.

      She touched her hand to her forehead. “I—I don’t understand.”

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