there?"
Nodding, she released the brake, then glanced in the direction Bolden had gone. "Be careful with him, James;' she whispered down.
He reached over and pinched the toe of her boot. "I'm always careful, Rach. And don't you worry about Bolden. He's harmless. A lot of boast and swagger, is all."
Rachel gave the reins a snap, her parting look saying she thought otherwise.
"Shall we walk, Mrs. Whitcomb?"
Hearing the formality of his tone, Molly half expected him to offer his arm. But he didn't.
She fell into step beside him, thinking of how he'd pinched the toe of Rachel's boot. It was such a sweet gesture. She appreciated how he had handled the situation with Angelo Giordano too-except one niggling doubt persisted. "How can you be so sure that Angelo will show up at your office tomorrow morning?"
Staring ahead, James smiled. "Don't worry. He'll show."
She said nothing but hoped for Angelo's sake that he was right.
James acknowledged a young woman passing by whose smile was shy but whose stare certainly wasn't. After walking several paces, Molly still sensed someone watching and chanced a look over her shoulder. The same young woman continued to stare, her attention fixed on James. And the man seemed oblivious to it. Or maybe he only pretended not to see.
Molly studied him, wondering why he'd never married.
Then again, she didn't know his history. Perhaps he had been married before. But something told her otherwise. He seemed as eligible as a man could be. Handsome, kind, obviously well liked by people in town-at least most people.
He turned to her. "I wouldn't have let the boy go if I didn't know he'd come back:"
She decided to take the supportive route. "I hope you're right:'
I am;' he said softly, with not a trace of arrogance. "You see, much like you've always had an ear for languages, I've always had a knack for reading people:"
Molly started to bring up the woman they'd just passed on the street, but seeing James's serious expression and realizing what his "knack for reading people" might mean for her, she didn't. "So ... you're saying you can tell when someone's telling the truth?" She hoped her question sounded more casual than it felt.
He paused on the side of the street. "It's more like I can tell whether someone's genuine or not. It's a sense I get right off about a person. And it's usually proven true, over time:"
A cool wind of caution blew through her. His attention deepened, and it was all she could do to maintain his gaze. Nerves twisted her stomach. Did he know about her? Had he guessed her secret? The sick feeling inside her fanned out. Somewhere down deep, she'd known her chances of living out this ill-fated charade were slim. But how had he found out?
A blur of questions fired rapid speed through her mind. If James did know, it would be best to get it over with right now, before things went any further, though she would have preferred someplace more private for their confrontation.
She took a deep breath and tried not to stammer. `And just what sense have you gotten about me ... James?" she said discreetly. "In the short time we've known each other:"
He studied her. "Are you certain you want to know?"
The seriousness in his voice caused everything around them to fade. Any moment now her knees would give way, she was certain. She attempted a soft laugh. "Well, of course I want to know." Her effort at nonchalance failed miserably.
Staring down at her, he took his time in answering. "I see a woman standing before me-" His voice was soft. "A very talented woman who's been through a painful time in her life, and who's left that behind her. Or who's trying real hard to." The gentle lines that framed the corners of his eyes and mouth crinkled. "But she's also hiding something:"
Molly told herself to keep breathing, and wondered if she would meet the wagon carrying her trunks up the mountain as she was sent packing back down.
"My guess is"-a gentleness no sheriff had a right to possess,
Nodding, she released the brake, then glanced in the direction Bolden had gone. "Be careful with him, James;' she whispered down.
He reached over and pinched the toe of her boot. "I'm always careful, Rach. And don't you worry about Bolden. He's harmless. A lot of boast and swagger, is all."
Rachel gave the reins a snap, her parting look saying she thought otherwise.
"Shall we walk, Mrs. Whitcomb?"
Hearing the formality of his tone, Molly half expected him to offer his arm. But he didn't.
She fell into step beside him, thinking of how he'd pinched the toe of Rachel's boot. It was such a sweet gesture. She appreciated how he had handled the situation with Angelo Giordano too-except one niggling doubt persisted. "How can you be so sure that Angelo will show up at your office tomorrow morning?"
Staring ahead, James smiled. "Don't worry. He'll show."
She said nothing but hoped for Angelo's sake that he was right.
James acknowledged a young woman passing by whose smile was shy but whose stare certainly wasn't. After walking several paces, Molly still sensed someone watching and chanced a look over her shoulder. The same young woman continued to stare, her attention fixed on James. And the man seemed oblivious to it. Or maybe he only pretended not to see.
Molly studied him, wondering why he'd never married.
Then again, she didn't know his history. Perhaps he had been married before. But something told her otherwise. He seemed as eligible as a man could be. Handsome, kind, obviously well liked by people in town-at least most people.
He turned to her. "I wouldn't have let the boy go if I didn't know he'd come back:"
She decided to take the supportive route. "I hope you're right:'
I am;' he said softly, with not a trace of arrogance. "You see, much like you've always had an ear for languages, I've always had a knack for reading people:"
Molly started to bring up the woman they'd just passed on the street, but seeing James's serious expression and realizing what his "knack for reading people" might mean for her, she didn't. "So ... you're saying you can tell when someone's telling the truth?" She hoped her question sounded more casual than it felt.
He paused on the side of the street. "It's more like I can tell whether someone's genuine or not. It's a sense I get right off about a person. And it's usually proven true, over time:"
A cool wind of caution blew through her. His attention deepened, and it was all she could do to maintain his gaze. Nerves twisted her stomach. Did he know about her? Had he guessed her secret? The sick feeling inside her fanned out. Somewhere down deep, she'd known her chances of living out this ill-fated charade were slim. But how had he found out?
A blur of questions fired rapid speed through her mind. If James did know, it would be best to get it over with right now, before things went any further, though she would have preferred someplace more private for their confrontation.
She took a deep breath and tried not to stammer. `And just what sense have you gotten about me ... James?" she said discreetly. "In the short time we've known each other:"
He studied her. "Are you certain you want to know?"
The seriousness in his voice caused everything around them to fade. Any moment now her knees would give way, she was certain. She attempted a soft laugh. "Well, of course I want to know." Her effort at nonchalance failed miserably.
Staring down at her, he took his time in answering. "I see a woman standing before me-" His voice was soft. "A very talented woman who's been through a painful time in her life, and who's left that behind her. Or who's trying real hard to." The gentle lines that framed the corners of his eyes and mouth crinkled. "But she's also hiding something:"
Molly told herself to keep breathing, and wondered if she would meet the wagon carrying her trunks up the mountain as she was sent packing back down.
"My guess is"-a gentleness no sheriff had a right to possess,
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