now talking with several other women. Usually, she would have joined them. But this morning Kinsey searched the crowd for someone else.
Sheriff Vaughn.
Embarrassment rose in Kinsey once more and she tried to fight it off so her cheeks wouldn’t turn red again. Good gracious, she’d been caught kissing a man in the alley. What must the sheriff think of her? He hadn’t mentioned it when he’d walked her to the boardinghouse last night, but what if he brought it up this morning? How would she possibly explain it to him?
When she didn’t even understand it herself.
Despite her best effort, Kinsey felt her cheeks grow warm. Because the truth was the stranger hadn’t just kissed her. She’d kissed him back. And her wanton actions hadn’t stopped there. She’d raised herself up on her toes—up on her toes. Leaned her head back so he could kiss her better.
How humiliating. How embarrassing. How could she have done that?
And what was this phantom warmth that lingered in the pit of her stomach hours later?
“Mama, can I go play?” Samasked, tugging on her arm.
Thankfully, reality pushed all thoughts of the stranger in the alley to the back of Kinsey’s mind as she turned her attention to her son. His hair was still damp, slicked into place from when she’d combed it earlier. He wore his Sunday best, dark trousers and the white shirt, that she’d helped him get into after she’d donned her own blue dress and bonnet.
“Can I, Mama? Can I?” he asked, tugging on her arms and hopping up and down.
She glanced across the crowded churchyard and saw several of the boys Sam went to school with playing together.
“All right, you can play for a while. But don’t get—”
Sam jerked away from her and raced toward his friends before she could remind him not to get dirty. As if he would have listened anyway, Kinsey thought with a faint smile.
Just then, Sam tripped on something and fell flat on his belly. A man stepped away from the group of men he’d been talking with and knelt down to help.
Kinsey headed over, not particularly concerned that Sam had hurt himself. He was a tough little fellow and had taken harder falls playing with the Gleason brothers in their backyard. She hadn’t heard him scream, either, the distinctive sound that determined whether a mother responded at a walk, or a dead run.
The man helped Sam to his feet and spoke to him, bringing Kinsey to a quick halt. It was the stranger, the man she’d kissed in the alley.
But he was more than that.
Kinsey saw the stranger and Sam in profile. Same chin. Same nose. Same black hair.
They both turned to her. Eyes and mouth. Nearly identical. Sam’s features were soft. The man’s were hard, straight, rugged. This was what her son would grow up to look like.
Kinsey’s blood ran cold.
Jared Mason had found her.
She charged across the churchyard, her search for the sheriff forgotten, as Jared got to his feet. She swept Sam into her arms. Startled, he let out a scream but Kinsey clamped him against her and dashed through the crowd. At the edge of the churchyard, she ran.
It had taken only a question or two to the men standing with him in the churchyard for Jared to learn where the woman who now called herself Kinsey Templeton lived. Luckily, the sheriff hadn’t been within earshot when Jared had asked his casual questions, and none of the other men noticed when he slipped away.
He’d seen Taylor’s Boardinghouse last night, he realized as he stopped in front of the big white-andgreen house with a front porch swing. Well-made, structurally sound. But was it a clean, decent place for Clark’s son to live?
Another swell of emotion overtook Jared. Clark’s son. He’d known the minute he laid eyes on the boy. He, like Jared, favored the Mason side of the family, though Clark had not.
Even if Jared hadn’t seen the family resemblance, the look on Kinsey Templeton’s face would have told him who the child was. Shock. Fear. And something else.
Courage, Jared realized. The courage of a mama bear come to do battle for her cub. Under other circumstances, Kinsey would have turned and run at the sight of Jared. But she’d charged in, taken her child. He’d seen the fierceness in her eyes.
Jared wondered for the first time since starting this journey what Kinsey Templeton might do to keep her son.
The front door of the boardinghouse was unlocked so Jared walked inside. The parlor was neat, nicely furnished with two settees, several chairs, bookcases and a piano. Off to the right, the large dining room table was backed by a china hutch, its beveled glass doors sparkling in the morning sunlight that beamed into the room.
The place was silent. Jared figured everyone was at church.
Everyone but Kinsey and Sam.
He glanced up the staircase, listened for a moment, then headed down the long hallway toward the back of the house. The men at church had told him Kinsey lived and worked here so he went into the kitchen and, sure enough, spotted her in a small bedroom.
Already she had a satchel sitting on the bed and drawers open in the bureau. Sam stared up at her, grass stain on his shirt, tears on his cheeks.
Jared crossed the kitchen and planted himself in the bedroom doorway. Kinsey whirled, saw him, stepped in front of Sam and pushed her chin up. They glared at each other for a few seconds, sizing each other up.
“You’re frightening the boy,” Jared said softly.
“Keep away from us.”
“You and I need to talk.”
Sam peeked around his mama’s skirt and Jared’s chest tightened. His brother’s child. The only thing left of him. And only one way—one easy way—to get him.
Jared took a step backwards. “Let the boy go outside and play. He doesn’t need to hear this.”
Kinsey didn’t move. Not an ounce of trust showed in her expression. Jared didn’t blame her. If he had a treasure like this, he’d protect it with his life, too.
“I’m just here to talk,” Jared said, holding out both palms.
He retreated to the other side of the kitchen, well away from the bedroom and the door that led outside. After a moment, Kinsey knelt and spoke softly to the boy. He sniffed and nodded. She pulled a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and wiped his eyes and nose, then lifted him into her arms and carried him to the back door. She stood there for a moment, the cool breeze blowing in, and eyed Jared hard. He backed up another step and she put the boy down, spoke to him again, then watched while he ran outside and pulled himself into the rope swing that hung from an oak tree in the backyard.
Kinsey pushed the door closed and turned to Jared, her hand behind her, still on the knob.
“You’re not taking him,” she said. “If that’s what you’re here for, you may as well leave right now.”
His
