Rogue Stallion (5 page)

Dugin shaded his eyes against the sun. He was tall and fair, in his forties, and he was mild-mannered and unassuming. He’d always seemed younger than he was. Perhaps it was because his father had always overshadowed him. Dugin still lived at home and did most everything his father told him to. He smiled and held out his hand when McCallum reached him.

“Nice day, isn’t it?” Dugin asked. “What can I do for you, Deputy? And how’s the kid?”

“She’s fine. They’re placing her in care until the case comes up. Listen, do you know anything that you haven’t told the sheriff? Was there anything else with the baby that wasn’t turned in?”

Dugin thought for a minute and shook his head. “Not a thing. It isn’t my kid,” he added solemnly. “I hear there’s been some talk around Whitehorn about my being the father, but I’m telling you, I don’t know anything. I wouldn’t risk losing Mary Jo for any other woman, Deputy. Just between us,” he added wryly, “I wouldn’t have the energy.”

McCallum chuckled. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Keep in touch with us about the case, will you?” Dugin asked. “Even though it’s not my child, I’d still like to know how things come out.”

“Sure.”

McCallum walked slowly back to his patrol car, wondering all the way why the baby had been left here, and with Dugin. There had to be a clue. He should have shown that cameo to Dugin, but if Jeremiah didn’t recognize it, there was little point in showing it to his son. As Jeremiah had suggested, if it were a family heirloom, he would have recognized it immediately.

It was a lazy day, after that. McCallum was drinking coffee in the Hip Hop Café with his mind only vaguely on baby Jennifer and her missing parents. He was aware of faint interest from some of the other diners when his portable walkie-talkie made static as it picked up a call. Even though most people in Whitehorn knew him, he still drew some curiosity from tourists passing through. He was a good-looking man with a solid, muscular physique that wasn’t overdone or exaggerated. He looked powerful, especially with the gun in its holster visible under his lightweight summer jacket.

The call that came over the radio made him scowl. He’d had enough of Jessica Larson the day before, but here she was after him again. Apparently there was a
domestic disturbance at the Colson home, where a young boy lived with his father and grandmother.

Sterling went out to the car to answer the call, muttering all the way as he sat down and jerked up the mike.

“Why is Miss Larson going?” he demanded.

“I don’t know, K-236,” the dispatcher drawled, using his call letters instead of his name. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you on an open channel.”

“I’ll see that you get a Christmas present for being such a good boy,” McCallum drawled back.

There was an unidentified laugh as McCallum hung up and drove to the small cottagelike Colson house on a dirt road just out of town.

He got there before Jessica did. If there was a fight going on here, it wasn’t anything obvious. Terrance Colson was sitting on the porch cleaning his rifle while his mother fed her chickens out back in the fenced-in compound. The boy, Keith, was nowhere in sight. Terrance was red-faced and seemed to have trouble holding the rifle still.

“Afternoon, McCallum!” Terrance called pleasantly. “What can I do for you?”

McCallum walked up on the porch, shook hands with the man and sat down on one of the chairs. “We had a report, but it must have been some crank,” he said, looking around.

“Report of what?” Terrance asked curiously.

Before McCallum could answer, Jessica came
driving up in her rickety yellow truck. She shut it off, but it kept running for a few seconds, knocking like crazy. That fan belt sounded as if it were still slipping, too. He’d noticed it the night at the bus station.

She got out, almost dropping her shoulder bag in the dirt, and approached the house. McCallum wondered just how many of those shapeless suits she owned. This one was green, and just as unnoticeable as the others. Her hair was up in a bun again. She looked the soul of business.

“Well, hello, Miss Larson,” Terrance called. “We seem to be having a party today!”

She stopped at the steps and glanced around, frowning. “We had a call at the office—” she faltered for a moment “—about a terrible fight going on out here. I was requested to come and talk to you.”

Terrance looked around pointedly, calling her attention to the peaceful surroundings. “What fight?”

She sighed. “An unnecessary call, I suppose,” she said with a smile. “I’m sorry. But as I’m here already, do you think I might talk to Keith for a minute? He told his counselor at school that he’d like to talk to me when I had time.”

Terrance stared at her without blinking. “Funny, he never said anything to me about it. And he’s not here right now. He’s out fishing.”

“Do you think I could find him?” she asked persistently.

“He goes way back in the woods,” he said quickly.
“It’s not a good time. He came home in a real bad mood. Best to leave him alone until he cools down.”

She shrugged. “As you wish. But do tell him that I’ll be glad to listen anytime he wants to talk about those school problems.” She didn’t add that she wondered why he couldn’t tell them to the counselor, who was a good psychologist.

“I’ll tell him,” Terrance said curtly.

“Good day then.” She smiled at Terrance, nodded at McCallum and went to climb back into her truck.

McCallum said his own goodbye, wondering why Mrs. Colson never came out of the chicken pen to say hello the whole time he was there. And Terrance’s expression had hardened when he’d mentioned the boy. Odd.

He climbed into the patrol car and gave his call sign and location, announcing that he was back in service again. He followed after Jessica’s sluggish truck and wondered if she was going to make it back into town.

When she parked her car at the office, he drove in behind her. The squealing of her fan belt was louder than ever. She really would have to do something about it when she had time.

“Your fan belt is loose,” he told her firmly. “It’s going to break one day and you’ll be stranded.”

“I know. I’m not totally stupid.”

He got out of the car and walked with her to the office, not making a comment back, as he usually did. He seemed deep in thought. “Something funny’s
going on out at that place,” he said suddenly. “Old Mrs. Colson hiding out with the chickens, Keith nowhere in sight, Terrance cleaning his gun, but without any gun oil….”

“You have a very suspicious mind,” she accused gently. “For heaven’s sake, do you always go looking for trouble? I’m delighted that there wasn’t anything to it. I know the family, and they’re good people. It’s Keith who gives them fits. He’s been into one bout of trouble after another at school since he was in the fifth grade. He’s a junior now, and still getting into fights and breaking rules. He was picked up with another boy for shoplifting, although Keith swore he was innocent and the officers involved believed him. I’ve been trying to help the family as much as possible. Terrance lost his job at the manufacturing company that shut down last fall, and Milly is trying to make a little money by taking in ironing and doing alterations for the dry cleaners. The Colsons are hurting, but they’re too proud to let me help much.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “Isn’t that the way of it?” he asked quietly. “The people who need help most never ask for it. On the other hand, plenty who don’t deserve it get it.”

She glowered up at him. “You’re so cynical, McCallum! Don’t you believe anybody can be basically good?”

“No.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I give up. You’re a hopeless case.”

“I’m in law enforcement,” he pointed out. “What we see doesn’t lead us to look for the best in people.”

“Neither does what I see, but I still try to believe in basic goodness,” she replied.

He looked down at her for a long moment, letting his eyes linger on her soft mouth and straight nose before they lifted to catch her eyes.

“No, you don’t,” he said abruptly. “How can you still believe? What happens is that you just close your eyes to the ugliness. That’s what most people do. They don’t want to know that human beings can do such hideous things. Murder and robbery and beatings are so unthinkable that people pretend it can’t occur. Then some terrible crime happens to them personally, and they have to believe it.”

“You don’t close your eyes to it,” she said earnestly. “In fact, you look for it everywhere, even when you have to dig to find it. You have to try to rise above the ugliness.”

His eyes darkened. He turned away. “I work for a living,” he said lazily. “I haven’t got time to stand around here socializing with you. Get that fan belt seen to.”

She looked after him. “My goodness, do I really
need a big, strong man to tell me how to take care of myself?”

“Yes.”

He got into his car, leaving her aghast, and drove off.

F
or several days, McCallum scoured the area for any clues as to the identity of the baby called Jennifer. He checked at every clinic and doctor’s office in the area, as well as the local hospital and those in the surrounding counties. But every child’s parents were accounted for. There were no leftover babies at any of the medical facilities. Which meant that the baby had probably been born at home, and a midwife had attended the birth. There were plenty of old women in the community who knew how to deliver a baby, and McCallum knew that he could spend years searching for the right person. Prospects looked dismal.

He was just leaving the office for lunch when Jessica Larson walked up to him on the street.

“I need to get your opinion on something,” she said, and without preamble, caught his big, lean hand in hers and began to drag him off toward a parked car nearby.

“Now, hold it,” he growled, hating and loving the feel of her soft hand in his.

“Don’t grumble,” she chided. “It won’t hurt a bit. I just want you to talk to these young people for me before they make a big mistake.” She paused at the beat-up old Chevy, where two teenagers sat guiltily in the front seat. They didn’t look old enough to be out of school.

“This is Deputy McCallum,” Jessica told the teens. “Ben and Amy want to get married,” she explained to him. “Their parents are against it. Ben is seventeen and Amy is sixteen. I’ve told them that any marriage they make can be legally annulled by her parents because she’s under age. Will you tell them that, too?”

He wasn’t sure about the statutes on marriageable age in Montana, having never had occasion or reason to look them up. But he was pretty sure the girl was under the age of consent, and he knew what Jessica wanted him to say. He could bluff when he had to.

“She’s absolutely right,” he told them. “A minor can’t legally marry without written permission from a parent. It would be terrible for you to have to—”

“She’s pregnant,” Ben mumbled, red-faced, and looked away. “I tried to get her to have it… Well, to not have it, really. She won’t listen. She says we have to get married or her folks’ll kill her.”

Jessica hadn’t counted on that complication. She stood there, stunned.

McCallum squatted down beside the car and looked at Amy, who was obviously upset. “Why don’t we start at the beginning?” he asked her gently. “These are big decisions that need thought.”

While Jessica looked on, stunned by the tenderness in McCallum’s deep voice, Amy began to warm to him. “I don’t know if I’m pregnant, really,” she confessed slowly. “I think I am.”

“Shouldn’t you find out for sure, before you wind up in a marriage neither of you is ready for?” he asked evenly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then the obvious next step is to see a doctor, isn’t it?”

She grimaced. “My dad’ll kill me.”

“I’ll speak to your parents,” Jessica promised her. “They won’t kill you. They’re good people, and they love you. You’re their only child.”

“I’d just love to have a baby,” Amy said dreamily, looking at Ben with fantasy-filled eyes that didn’t even see his desperation, his fear. “We can have a house of our own, and I can get a job….”

McCallum looked hard at Jessica.

“Let’s go over to your parents’ house, Amy,” she said. She had McCallum firmly by the hand again, and she wasn’t about to let go. “I’m sure Deputy
McCallum won’t mind coming with us,” she added, daring him to say no.

He gave up plans for a hamburger and fries and told his stomach to shut up. Resignedly, he helped Jessica into his car, and they followed the teens to Amy’s house.

“It wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jessica commented after the ordeal was finally over. “She’ll see a doctor and then get counseling if she needs it. And there won’t be a rushed marriage with no hope of success. They didn’t even blame Ben too much.”

“Why should they?” he muttered as he negotiated a right turn. “She’s the one with dreams of babies and happy ever after, not him. He just wants to finish high school and go on to veterinary college.”

“Ah, the man’s eternal argument. ‘Eve tempted me with the apple.’”

He glanced at her musingly. “Most women can lead a man straight to bed with very little conscious effort. Especially a young man.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Don’t look at me. I’ve never led anyone to my bed with conscious effort or without it.” She stemmed the memories that thoughts of intimacy resurrected.

“Have you wanted to?”

The question, coming from such an impersonal sort of man, surprised her. “Why…no.”

“Have you let the opportunity present itself?” he persisted.

She straightened her skirt unnecessarily. “I’m sorry I made you miss your lunch.”

He let the subject go. “How do you know you did?”

“Oh, you always go to lunch at eleven-thirty,” she remarked. “I see you crossing over to the café from my office.”

He chuckled softly, and it wasn’t until she saw the speculation on his face that she realized why.

“I wasn’t…watching you, for God’s sake!” she blurted out, reddening.

“Really?” he teased. “You mean I’ve mistaken that hero worship in your eyes all this time?”

Her dark eyes glared at him. “You are very conceited.”

“Made so by a very expressive young face,” he countered. He glanced at her while they paused at a stop sign. “Don’t build a pedestal under me, Jessie,” he said, using a nickname for her for the first time. “I’m not tame enough for a woman like you.”

She gaped at him. “If you think that I…!”

Incredibly, he caught the back of her head with a steely hand and leaned over her with slow, quiet intent. His dark eyes fell to her shocked mouth and he tugged gently until her mouth was a fraction below his. She could taste his minty breath, feel the heat of his mouth threatening her lips. She could
feel the restrained passion in his long, fit body as it loomed over hers.

“You’re afraid of me,” he whispered into her mouth. “And it has nothing to do with that bad experience you had. It isn’t the kind of fear that causes nightmares. It’s the kind that makes your body swell hard with desire.”

While she was absorbing the muted shock the words produced, his mouth lowered to touch and tease her soft lips in tender, biting kisses that made her muscles go rigid with sensation. Her hand caught at his shirt, searching for something to hold on to while she spun out of reality altogether. Her nails bit into his chest.

He groaned under his breath. “You’d be a handful,” he whispered. “And if you were a different sort of woman, I’d accept with open arms the invitation you’re making me right now.”

“What…invitation?”

His nose rubbed against hers. “This one.”

He brought his mouth down over her parted lips with real intent, feeling them open and shiver convulsively as he deepened the pressure. She whimpered, and the sound shot through him like fire. He abruptly drew back.

His breathing was a little quick, but his expression showed none of the turmoil that kissing her had aroused in him.

She was slower to recover. Her face was flushed,
and her mouth was red, swollen from the hard pressure of his lips. She looked at him with wide-eyed surprise.

“You’re like a little violet under a doorstep,” he commented quietly. “A lovely surprise waiting to be discovered.”

She couldn’t find the words to express what she felt.

He touched her soft mouth. “Don’t worry about it. Someday the right man will come along. I’m not him.”

“Why did you do that?” she whispered in a choked voice.

“Because you wanted me to, Jessica,” he drawled. “You’ve watched me for months, wondering how it would feel if I kissed you. Okay. Now you know.”

Her eyes darkened with something like pain. She averted them.

“What did you expect?” he mused, pulling the car back out into the road. “I’m not a teenager on his first date. I know exactly what to do with a woman. But you’re off-limits, sweetheart. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

“I haven’t asked you to marry me, have I?” she asked, bouncing back.

He smiled appreciatively. “Not yet.”

“And you can hold your breath until I do.” She pushed back a disheveled strand of hair. “I’m not getting mixed up with you.”

“You like kissing me.”

She glared at him. “I like kissing my cat, too, McCallum,” she said maliciously.

“Ouch!”

She nodded her head curtly. “Now how arrogant do you feel?”

He chuckled. “Well, as one of my history professors was fond of saying, ‘I’ve always felt that arrogance was a very admirable quality in a man.’”

She rolled her eyes.

He drove back into town, but he didn’t stop at her office. He kept going until he reached the Hip Hop Café, a small restaurant on the southeast corner of Amity Lane and Center.

She glanced at him uncertainly.

“If I haven’t eaten, I know you haven’t,” he explained.

“All right. But I pay for my own food.”

His eyes slowly wandered over her face. “I like independence,” he said unexpectedly.

“Do I care?” she asked with mock surprise.

He smiled. “Fix your lipstick before we go inside, or everyone’s going to know what we’ve been doing.”

She wouldn’t blush, she wouldn’t blush, she wouldn’t…!

All the same, her cheeks were pink in the compact mirror she used as she reapplied her lipstick and powdered her nose.

McCallum had taken the time to wipe the traces of pink off his own firm mouth with his handkerchief.

“Next time, I’ll get rid of that lipstick before I start,” he murmured.

“Oh, you’d be so lucky!” she hissed.

He lifted an eyebrow over wise, soft eyes. “Or you would. It gets better, the deeper you go. You cried out, and I hadn’t even touched you. Imagine, Jessica, how it would feel if I did.”

She was out of the car before he finished speaking. She should go back to her office and leave him standing there. He was wicked to tease her about something she couldn’t control. It didn’t occur to her that he might be overcompensating for the desire he’d felt with her. Experienced he might be, but it had been a while since he’d had a woman and Jessica went right to his head. He hadn’t realized it was going to be so fulfilling to kiss her. And it seemed to be addictive, because it was all he could think about.

“I won’t let you torment me,” she said, walking ahead of him to the door. “And before we go any farther, you’d better remember that Whitehorn isn’t that big. Everybody knows everybody else’s business. If I go in there with you, people are going to talk about us.”

He had one hand in his pocket, the other on the door handle. He searched her eyes. “I know,” he said quietly. He opened the door deliberately.

It was a quiet, companionable lunch. There were a few interested looks, including a sad one from a young waitress who had a hopeless crush on McCallum. But people were discreet enough not to stare at them.

“After all, we could be talking over a case,” Jessica said.

He frowned at her. “Does it really matter?” he asked. “You’re very sensitive to gossip. Why?”

She shrugged, averting her eyes. “Nobody likes being talked about.”

“I don’t know that I ever have been since I’ve come back,” he said idly. He sipped his coffee. “And with your spotless reputation, it’s hardly likely to think that you have,” he added with a chuckle.

She picked up her coffee cup, steadying it with her other hand. “Thank you for helping me with Amy and Ben.”

“Did I have a choice? I wonder if there isn’t a law against deputy sheriffs being kidnapped by overconscientious social workers. And while we’re on the subject of laws, that one about underage marriages is one I’ll have to look up or ask Hensley about. I’ve never had cause to use it before.”

“You may again. We’ve had several cases like Amy and Ben over the years.”

“What if she is pregnant?” he asked.

“Then she’ll have choices and people to help her make them.”

He glared at her.

“I know that look,” she said softly. “I even understand it. But you have to consider that sometimes what’s best for a young girl isn’t necessarily what you feel is right.”

“What if I lost my head one dark night and got you pregnant, Jessica?” He leaned back, his eyes narrowed. “What would you do in Amy’s place?”

The color that rushed into her face was a revelation. She spilled a bit of coffee onto the table.

“Well, well,” he murmured softly.

She put the cup down and mopped up the coffee with napkins. “You love shocking me, don’t you?”

“Never mind the shock. Answer me. What would you do?”

She bit her lower lip. “The correct thing…”

He caught her hand and held it tight in his. “Not the correct thing, or the sensible thing, or even the decent thing. What would
you
do?” he asked evenly.

“Oh, I’d keep it,” she said, angry at being pushed into answering a question that would not, could not, ever arise. It hurt her to remember how barren she was. “I’m just brimming over with motherly instincts, old-fashioned morality and an overworked sense of duty. But what I’m trying to make you see is that regardless of my opinion, I have no right to force my personal sense of right and wrong on the rest of the world!”

He forgot the social issue in the heat of the moment, as he allowed himself to wonder how it
would feel to create a child with Jessica. It made him feel…odd.

Jessica saw the speculation in his eyes and all her old inadequacies came rushing back. “McCallum,” she began, wondering whether or not to tell him about her condition.

His fingers linked with hers, his thumb smoothing over them. “You’re twenty-five, aren’t you? I’m ten years older.”

“Yes, I know. McCallum…”

His eyes lifted to catch hers. “My first name is Sterling,” he said.

“That’s an unusual name. Was it in your family?”

He shrugged. “My mother never said.” Memories of his mother filled his mind. He withdrew, mentally and physically. He pulled his hand slowly away from Jessica’s. “Maybe it was the name of her favorite brand of gin, who knows?”

She grimaced, hating that pain in his eyes. She wanted to soothe him, to comfort him.