LITMIR.BIZ

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general store.”

      “I think you were in a hurry,” she told him, recalling their rushed exit from the hotel, the buggy he’d hired at the livery stable and his casual yet thorough search of their surroundings as they’d made their way here to his home. His horse had been tied to the rear of the vehicle, and she hadn’t questioned his motives.

      “I’d rather not have been followed,” he admitted. “You’re just half a mile from town here, but there’s a lot of trees and some pretty heavy brush along the road.”

      “We’re not starving,” she said, recalling the food Stephen had put away in the hotel restaurant. “I think we can hold off until you come back.”

      “I have something to show you,” he said, casting a furtive glance at the boy, who had yet to move from her side. And then he crouched in front of the lad. “Do you think you could take a look upstairs and maybe find the bedroom you’d like to sleep in while you’re here?” he asked.

      “Yes, sir,” Stephen answered, as if used to obeying without quibbling. He released Sarah’s hand, a bit reluctantly but without argument, and went from the kitchen to the wide staircase. She took a single step toward the doorway to watch him as he made his way up the stairs, and then she turned back to Brace.

      “What is it?” she asked.

      “There’s a gun in the pantry,” he told her. “I’m assuming you know how to handle a shotgun.”

      She nodded. “I’d appreciate it if you’d give me back my handgun, though.”

      As if he made a momentous decision, he looked at her for a moment, then nodded slowly. “All right, but if push comes to shove, if there’s any trouble, you’ll be better off with a long gun. Scattershot will do the trick if someone gets close to the house.” He slipped her pistol from his waistband and turned it in his hand, then placed it in her palm, his other hand beneath hers.

      And then he covered it for a moment, capturing her fingers in his clasp. “Be careful, Sarah.”

      He’d gotten himself into a pickle. Not only had he hauled a woman into his house, but he’d taken a child from his legal father and hidden that child. Brace rode slowly back to town, the mare and buggy stored in his shed until he decided his next move. His black mount made short work of the half mile he traveled, and in moments the general store was before him.

      His office door stood open, Jamie propped there watching him. Brace lifted a hand in greeting and Jamie pushed away from the wall. “Hey, Brace,” he said in greeting. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he rocked back and forth on his heels. “You had company a while ago.”

      “Lester Clark?” He wasn’t surprised, just thankful that Sarah and the boy were safe for now.

      “He’s madder’n hell. Said you stole his kid.” Jamie shifted uncomfortably. “Was it legal? Takin’ the boy, I mean?”

      Brace tried his best to look patient. “Now, what do you think, Deputy?” And then he answered his own query. “Hell, no, it wasn’t legal. Just the right thing to do. The boy is wearing bruises from one end to the other.”

      “What are you gonna do about it?” Jamie asked, squinting for a moment, then pulling the brim of his hat down.

      “Keep Stephen and his aunt out of sight for a couple of days. At least until the judge comes into town.”

      Jamie’s lips twisted in a knowing grin. “I’ll bet you’ll be staying out at your place for the next few nights, won’t you?”

      Brace’s jaw firmed, and he noted the involuntary response Jamie could not disguise, his grin fading as he sensed Brace’s anger. “Didn’t mean anything by that,” he said quickly. “I suspect you’ll be out there keepin’ an eye on those two.”

      “You’re right there,” Brace told him harshly. “And no one had better find out that’s where they are.”

      “Not from me,” Jamie said hastily. “I’ll just hold the fort here, unless there’s some reason or another to hustle on out there and notify you.”

      “About the worst that generally happens on a Friday or Saturday night is a fight at one of the saloons,” Brace told him. “You can handle that.”

      “You takin’ off for the rest of the day?” Jamie asked. “I figured you might, in order to get your guests settled in out at your place.” He grinned widely. “About the first time you’ve let anybody walk through that front door, ain’t it?”

      Brace shot him a look designed to quell his curiosity, but to no avail.

      Jamie was intent on poking into the subject. “Never could figure out why you wanted such a big place, anyway,” he said lazily. “Seems like you’d rattle around in that house all by yourself.”

      “I don’t spend a lot of time there,” Brace admitted. “But one of these days—” His words were cut off by a shout from the front door of the hotel. Bart Simms was on the porch, waving a piece of paper in one hand, his fist making emphatic movements in the air.

      “You’d better get yourself back in here, mister. You’re gonna pay this bill, or I’ll know the reason why.”

      “Trouble,” Jamie said in an undertone, standing erect and patting his gun with a proprietary touch. “I’ll handle it, Sheriff. Go on along and tend to your business.”

      Brace shook his head and reached out a restraining hand as Jamie would have stepped into the street. “Hold it.”

      They watched as Lester Clark turned and dropped his bag at his feet, then glared at the hotel owner. “I paid in advance,” he said, and then, for good measure, stalked back to where Bart stood and snatched the paper from his hand. “This isn’t worth squat,” he shouted.

      “Well, I may want to argue that,” Brace said, pitching his voice to carry across the street. He strolled to where the two men stood, and Bart cast him a thankful look. But Brace’s attention was focused on the other man. “You’re just bound and determined to occupy one of my cells, aren’t you, mister?” he asked.

      “You can’t arrest me,” Lester shouted. “You’ve already stolen my boy from me and hidden him away somewhere. All I want to do is get my hands on him, and we’ll be out of your hair.”

      “You’re not going anywhere until you pay your account at the hotel,” Brace told him, folding his arms across his chest, a pose he knew caused the few troublemakers in town to think twice before they crossed him.

      “I paid in advance,” Lester said stubbornly.

      Brace smiled. “Well, we can solve the whole problem, then. All you have to do is show me the receipt.”

      Lester blustered for a moment. “I didn’t keep it. Didn’t think I’d find a bunch of crooks in Benning.” His sneer was eloquent. “Course, when the local sheriff himself is beyond the law, that’s about what you’d expect.”

      “Either pay your bill or gather your gear and head across the street to the jailhouse,” Brace told him firmly. And then he waited, his full attention on the angry man before him. In less than a minute Lester dug into his pocket and withdrew a handful of money, sorted through the coins and chose two to give Bart Simms.

      “Thanks, Sheriff,” Bart said, glaring in impotent fury at his erstwhile tenant. “You know damn well we don’t charge in advance for our rooms.”

      “I’m aware of that,” Brace said, watching closely as Lester picked up his bag and headed toward the livery stable. “I think I’ll just follow along and see what our friend is planning.”

      “Where’d that young’un go to?” Bart asked in an undertone. “Like I told my missus, he was a pitiful sight to behold.”

      “That he was,” Brace agreed. “Don’t worry about him. He’s safe and sound.” Sleeping in one of my

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