were gone, she stood there a while longer. The town seemed suddenly quiet now, the breeze cooler. Clouds drifted over the afternoon sun turning everything a pale gray. Vague sounds from the street wafted through the air; somewhere, a dog barked.
Kaitlin glanced down the alley. Suddenly, she wished Tripp Callihan would get here. Odd, but it wasn’t like her to think such thoughts. She’d been alone for so long now, she was used to it.
No, she was just in a hurry to get the store ready, she decided. Kaitlin nodded confidently and brushed her hands together. Yes, that was the reason she was so anxious to see Tripp Callihan.
Kaitlin went inside the store and dumped the last of her clothing out of the carpetbag and onto the bed. As she sorted through them she heard the jangle of harness and the creak of a wagon out back.
Kaitlin hurried through the kitchen and opened the back door. High on the wagon seat sat Tripp, his black Stetson pulled low on his forehead, his shoulders straight, his hands holding the team steady.
“You came,” Kaitlin said, stepping outside. “I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.”
He set the brake and tied off the reins, then jumped to the ground and stretched his long legs. “I gave you my word, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did.” Kaitlin waved at the back of his wagon, loaded with furniture and crates. “I can see that now.”
Tripp reached into the wagon just behind the seat and a child sat up. The little boy yawned and ground his fists into his eyes, then raised his arms to Tripp. He lifted him from the wagon and set him on the boardwalk.
Kaitlin stared at the dark-haired child dressed in black suspendered pants and a rumpled white shirt. Finally she looked up at Tripp.
He glowered at her from beneath the brim of his hat.
“He’s my son.”
She’d expected most anything from Tripp Callihan—a change in the terms of their deal, not showing up at all, actually turning out to be a convicted murder. But a child?
Kaitlin knelt in front of the boy. He was a beautiful child. Black hair, like Tripp’s. Deep-blue eyes, the same hue as his father’s. The family resemblance hidden in the boy’s soft face made Tripp’s features harder, sharper.
Kaitlin glanced up at him, towering over them both. He looked big, powerful, masculine. That strong chin and straight nose, those intelligent eyes would be the child’s someday. It was only a matter of time.
She smiled at the boy as he rubbed his eyes again. “What’s your name?”
He latched on to Tripp’s trouser leg and looked up at him.
“This is Miss Kaitlin.” Tripp touched his hand to the back of the boy’s head. “It’s all right to talk to her.”
“Charlie.” His forehead wrinkled in a little frown. “And you can’t call me Charles ‘cause Papa gets mad.”
Kaitlin grinned and glanced up at Tripp. “We certainly don’t want that to happen, now do we?”
“Uh-uh.” Charlie shook his head emphatically.
“How old are you?”
“Six.”
“My, but you’re a big boy for six.”
Charlie looked past her to the store. “You got any kids?”
Kaitlin rose and shook her head. “No. Sorry.”
“Papa?” He tugged on Tripp’s trouser leg. “I’m thirsty.”
“Come on, Charlie.” Kaitlin reached for his hand. “I’ll take you inside and get you a—”
“No.” Tripp dropped his hand on the boy’s shoulder and looked Kaitlin hard in the eye. “I take care of him.”
Kaitlin stepped out of the way. “Sorry…”
She followed them inside the store and found Tripp holding the boy up to the sink while he pumped water; Charlie stuck his mouth under the flow, lapping it with his tongue. Tripp set him down, then cupped his hand under the water and rubbed it over his face.
“Can I go outside, Papa?” Charlie asked.
Tripp pulled a handkerchief from his hip pocket and wiped his face. “Stay by the wagon. Nowhere else.”
“I will, Papa.”
Kaitlin stepped aside as the boy scooted out the door. She nodded outside.
“Have you got a wife inside that wagon, too?”
Tripp frowned at her. “No.”
“Will she be joining us later?”
His frown deepened as he shoved his handkerchief into his hip pocket. “No.”
Kaitlin stepped closer. “Will she—”
“It’s just Charlie and me.” Tripp dragged the sleeve of his pale blue shirt across his face. “We’d better get down to business.”
Obviously, he didn’t intend to give her more details and, really, it wasn’t any of her business. But the deep pain she saw in his blue eyes for a fraction of a second told Kaitlin a great deal of what she needed to know.
“Yes, I guess we should.” She motioned out the door. “We’ll get your wagon unloaded, then we can—”
“Hold on. We need to talk about a few things first.”
“Talk?” Kaitlin waved her hand outside. “There’s only a few hours of daylight left and lots to do. We can talk later.”
“No, now. There’re some things we have to get straight, and I’m not unloading my wagon until we do.”
Kaitlin huffed impatiently. “Fine.”
Tripp walked to the rickety table leaning against the wall, wiped the dust away with his handkerchief and righted two crates at either end.
“Sit down.”
Kaitlin waved her arms around the room. “Couldn’t we discuss this while we work?”
He blinked at her, taken aback by her questioning. “No. First things first.”
She perched on the edge of the crate, holding on to her patience. “Well, just hurry, will you?”
Instead, Tripp walked across the room and looked out the back door.
“Don’t play on that, son, you might fall.”
He stood there
