Judith Stacy - The Dreammaker

“Oh?” She tossed her head.

“Where’s that sack the sheriff gave you?”

Tension coiled in Kaitlin’s stomach, and she knew she’d be wise to be scared of this man. But he could have hurt her already, and hadn’t. She’d felt the power he possessed. His touch was gentle; he was a man used to tempering his anger.

She pulled in a breath. “Those things are none of your business.”

He pointed to the bureau. “I’ll tear this place apart to find it, if I have to.”

She knew he was capable of doing just that. Still, she wouldn’t make it easy for him. Kaitlin planted her hands on her hips. “I’m not giving you anything.”

“It belongs to me.”

“It’s mine. And you can’t prove any different.”

He advanced on her. “Yeah? It belongs to you? Then what’s the inscription on the back of the locket?”

“Inscription?” Kaitlin shifted. There was an inscription on the locket? She hadn’t even taken time to look it over. “Well…”

“It says, ‘To my darling with all my love.’“ Tripp held out his palm. “Hand it over, Miss Jeffers.”

Obviously, the locket belonged to him. Darn. It would have fetched a good price. As much as she hated to see it go, it was only right.

For a moment she felt a kinship with Mr. Tripp Callihan, both taken advantage of by Harvey Stutz. Briefly she wondered what else the con man had taken from him, but doubted Tripp was the kind of man to divulge that.

Kaitlin opened the top drawer of the bureau and kept her back to him as she dug beneath her clothing. She glanced over her shoulder. “I had nothing to do with stealing this.”

He snorted his disbelief.

Kaitlin pulled the gold locket from the sack and turned it over in her hand. On the back was the inscription, just as Tripp had said.

She shrugged. “I guess it does belong to you.”

He snatched it from her hand and dropped it in his shirt pocket. “Now I want what else is mine.”

“But—”

Tripp jerked the sack from her hand.

“Hey! Give me that!”

She lunged for it, but he held it out of her reach, easily fending off her grabbing hands. He was so tall, so strong, she had no chance.

“Listen, Mr. Callihan. Let me explain.” Kaitlin drew in a deep breath. “Harvey Stutz stole my life savings—every cent of it. I’m just trying to get it back.”

“By pretending to be his widow—his pregnant widow?” He shook his head in disgust.

“Well, it worked. Or would have, if it hadn’t been for you.”

“Stutz stole from me, too.”

“Your life savings?”

He looked away. “Something like that.”

“You can have your locket. But the sheriff already said everything else belongs to me.”

“You want to get the sheriff involved again?” Tripp’s eyebrows drew together. “Fine. Let’s find out what he has to say when he sees you like this. Maybe you can explain exactly where your baby went.”

“You’re not exactly his favorite person either, Mr. Callihan.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“And what if Sheriff Newell decides not to give it to either of us? He threatened to give it to the church once already, remember? Both of us could end up with nothing.”

“Dammit…” Tripp walked across the room and stared through the window at the street below. “I didn’t wait all this time, and come all this way, to end up with nothing.”

Kaitlin didn’t say anything, just studied his profile outlined in the window. He looked grim.

Finally, he turned to her. “All right. We split everything fifty-fifty. Deal?”

“Fifty-fifty? No, I was thinking more like—”

“You’d rather I let the sheriff settle this?”

She huffed impatiently. There really was nothing she could do. At least this way she’d end up with something.

“All right. We’ll sell the business and split it down the middle. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Tripp strode across the room and opened the door. “We’ll head over to Porter at first light. Be ready.”

“Wait.” She braced her hand against the door. “How do I know you’ll be here in the morning? How do I know you won’t take off with the money and the deed?”

Tripp held up the sack. “You’ll have to trust me.”

“Trust you? I don’t even know you.”

He looked down at her belly. “At least I didn’t start off with a lie.”

Tripp left the room and slammed the door behind him.

Dawn’s first rays of light seeped over the horizon as Tripp dropped his satchel beside the front desk in the hotel lobby. A circular red velvet couch stood in the center of the room beneath an ornate chandelier. At the desk along the back wall, a man scrawled his name on the registration book while the clerk searched the cubby holes for a room key.

Tripp paused in the doorway of the hotel dining room, looking over the few customers already seated there. A couple of men wearing cravats and jackets, an old man with a dusty beard, a family with three wiggly children. An odd sense of disappointment crept over Tripp. No sign of Kaitlin Jeffers.

That proved it, he decided. She was a crook, just like Harvey Stutz. Probably hightailed it out of town during the night, fearing he’d go to the sheriff after all.

Tripp wound his way through the white-linencovered tables, ignoring the murmured conversations around him, and took a seat along the back wall. He hadn’t expected any different. Hadn’t he learned a long time ago how women act when things got tough?

Tripp tossed his black hat on the chair beside him and scrubbed his hands over his face. He’d hardly slept a wink last night. Worries, then dreams, kept him awake until nearly dawn. The worries he was used to. But the dreams—he hadn’t had dreams like that since he was a kid.

He shifted in. his chair as a familiar stirring claimed him, then looked around the room for a distraction from his own thoughts.

A woman stepped into the doorway of the dining room. Tripp drew in a sharp breath. God, she was the prettiest thing he’d seen in a month of Sundays, all done up in a green skirt with a matching print overskirt, and a blouse that hugged her breasts and outlined her trim waist. A green hat sat at a saucy angle among her dark curling hair.

Pressure behind his fly increased considerably as he watched her hips sway across the dining room. She took a seat at the corner table facing the wall, her back to the door.

A sweet scent wafted over him. Tripp reeled back in his chair. Good God, it was Kaitlin Jeffers.

What had happened to her? Brown eyes, so dark they reflected the light from the window, darted quickly around the room. Her oval face shone with full lips, soft delicate features, and porcelain skin. Why hadn’t he noticed those things last night?

Or maybe he had. Images that had frolicked in his dreams last night came back to him now with the same urgency.

Tripp turned his attention to two old men seating themselves at the table next to him, and listened to their conversation. He sure as hell needed something to occupy his attention. But his gaze drifted back to Kaitlin.

She looked all delicate and soft, tugging off her lace gloves, smoothing down her skirt, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear. Womanly movements, feminine and artful, without trying to be. Tripp’s chest tightened.

She glanced at him, then looked away quickly.

“Miss Jeffers?” The words slipped from his lips before he realized it.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, then looked away once more.

He knew damn good and well she’d seen him.

“Miss Jeffers?”

Kaitlin turned to him, her lips pursed, her brows furrowed. “Shh! Not so loud. I’m trying to be inconspicuous.”

How in the name of heaven did a woman as pretty as her think she could be inconspicuous in a little town like this?