Vincent mull over his options and come to a decision. Finally, he shook his head. “Forget it.”
“That’s what I thought,” Zach muttered.
Zach’s grandfather, George Sr., hadn’t been the most upstanding citizen, but at least he’d been blatant about his dealings. Samuel and his lot were sneaky, as Zach knew all too well.
Once, back in high school, Zach had been framed for stealing firewood—no small thing in cold country where many homes depended on the heat of a fireplace. A friend of Vincent’s, Willy Bishop, had eventually confessed to being the culprit, but everyone knew Willy was a follower, not a leader, and none too bright. Zach could not prove that Vincent was behind the scheme, but the incident had given him firsthand knowledge of how that side of the family worked. It had also provided him with his dearest memory of his late grandfather. George Sr. had not been an easy or even likable man, but he’d never doubted Zach and had prevented his arrest until his innocence could be proved, keeping alive Zach’s dream of making a career in law enforcement.
Later, of course, the old man had reverted to type and threatened to disown Zach when he’d refused to return home to Clayton after college. Though grateful for that early intervention, Zach would not have returned to Colorado just to please his grandfather, even if he’d known about the money. No one had ever dreamed that the old man was worth anything, let alone a fortune, not until the reading of the will a few weeks ago.
Even then, Zach might not have returned if things had been different in Miami and his youngest sister, Brooke, did not suspect Vincent of stirring up trouble for the family. She firmly believed that Vincent had kidnapped, or at least waylaid, her soon-to-be stepson, A.J., who was not yet three years old.
Thankfully, that situation had turned out well. Due to none other than Kylie Jones.
“Guess you’d best get on back to the church,” the deputy told Vincent sternly. “If and when she decides she wants you, she’ll be along.”
“Not if he was the last man in Colorado,” Kylie snapped.
The deputy smothered a chuckle with a cough behind a fist. Kylie quelled the urge to poke him for making her think that he might arrest her. Instead, a relieved sigh gusted out of her.
It wasn’t easy for Vincent to back down, and she well knew of the enmity between his branch of the family and old George’s. As soon as she’d realized the identity of this big man, she’d half expected the situation to devolve to fisticuffs. To “cousin” Zach’s credit, he’d managed to stop Vincent with wit rather than brawn.
Clearly thwarted, Vincent dithered for a bit before swinging around to stride angrily back toward the church, declaring, “This isn’t over!”
He shot a vicious glare at her father as he passed. Her dad sighed and shoved a hand through his thinning hair before trudging forward.
“Kylie, honey,” he said apologetically, “I’m so sorry. I knew that boy was no-account, but you had your heart set on him and—”
“Oh, Daddy.” She stepped out from behind the deputy to go to her father. “It’s not like that. I—I mean, I was willing to marry him. That is, I thought … It seemed like God’s will at the time, with the business and all.”
He caught her in his beefy arms and hugged her to him. “Kylie, I tried to tell you that my business with Samuel has nothing to do with you and Vincent.”
“It’s just that Vincent guaranteed Samuel would buy out your share of the ranch if we married.”
“Even if that were true,” her father argued, shaking his head, “it wouldn’t be enough to pay off the loan, not with real estate prices falling. God will take care of us, honey. Believe it!”
“May not be my place to say so,” the deputy spoke up, “but if you’re in business with my great-uncle Samuel, you’ve got enough trouble without bringing Vincent into your family.”
“I’m sure you’re right about that,” her father agreed, putting out a hand. “Gene Jones of Jones Feed & Supply.”
As he stepped forward to take that hand, the deputy glanced across the green to the feed store on the other side of the tracks north of Railroad Street.
“Used to be Wilmont’s Feed & Supply back in the day.”
“We bought him out six, seven years ago.”
“I was long gone by then. Zach Clayton, Deputy Sheriff.” He tipped his hat to the bride and smiled, displaying a single dimple.
Oh, my. Vincent was about to be dethroned as the best-looking Clayton around town. “Kylie Jones.”
“Kylie Jeanne Jones, if I’m not mistaken.”
She nodded, reaching up with both hands to pluck the combs from her hair and sweep off the veil. Her hair had been rolled up on both sides and pinned at the back of her head with a heart-shaped rhinestone clip, leaving the rest to hang down her back in spiral curls.
“Would you really have arrested me?”
“You and Vincent both,” he answered honestly. “If pressed to it.” Grinning, he added, “I think you’d have gotten off. Him too, probably. But the report would’ve gone into the papers just the same.”
“And you knew Vincent wouldn’t want that.”
The lawman nodded and said, “You found A.J. Wesson.”
“That’s right.”
“I’d like to talk to you about that.”
“Now?” Kylie asked, holding out her satin skirts.
“You seem to have something more important to do,” he conceded. “But soon. Next week for sure.”
Dropping her skirts, she sighed. “That’s fine.” She looked to her father, saying, “Right now, I guess one of us better get back to the church and tell everyone that the wedding is off.”
Gene patted his daughter’s shoulder. “I’ll see to it, honey, while you talk to your mother and sister in private.”
“Thank you, Dad.” Leaning in, she kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry about all this.”
“It’s just as well, if you ask me. Better to find out he’s unfaithful now than after you’d married him.”
Kylie nodded, suddenly weary despite the great sense of relief that swept over her. To think that she had very nearly married Vincent Clayton! She felt as if she’d just awakened from a long, confusing dream.
Lifting her skirts, she began making her way back across the grass, but then she remembered that the new deputy wanted to talk to her about how she’d found A.J. that day. She paused and glanced his way. He was one big, handsome man, all right—but he was also a Clayton, and all the Claytons with whom she had dealt had turned out to be trouble. Nevertheless, this one wore a badge.
“Our place is out on Waxwing Road,” she told him.
“I’ll be around.”
“Okay,
