A Love to Cherish Page 6

  Unfortunately he no longer had the money to return and he had promised McAllister that he’d find his grandson. Professional honor demanded that he either convince Belle to give her son up without a fuss, or tell McAllister where to find the boy. With the law on his side, McAllister could easily claim Tommy once he knew where Belle had taken him.

  Casey recalled how close he’d come to making love to Belle that day he’d sent Dinks packing for the second time. He’d wanted to, oh yes, he still wanted to. She had a rare kind of beauty that no defect could diminish. Not just beauty of face and form but beauty of spirit. Her life hadn’t been easy but she had persevered and overcome obstacles lesser women would have found daunting.

  Time was running out; Casey knew he couldn’t remain in Placerville forever. McAllister would be chomping at the bit, waiting for some word from him. Casey began to curse the physical attraction he felt for Belle. Despite the attachments he’d formed in this case, Casey realized sentiments had no place in the life of a detective, and that he had to resolve things soon. To that end, he paid a visit to Belle after the dinner hour late one evening. He found her in the kitchen, just finishing up the dishes.

  “Belle, can I talk to you?”

  Since Dolores was with her, Belle felt safe. She couldn’t afford to succumb to Casey’s charm again, or let herself drift aimlessly into the dark, mesmerizing depths of his eyes. She must never forget that Tommy came first in her life.

  “Certainly. You can talk while I work. Tommy is waiting for me.”

  “Tommy is already sleeping. I just checked on him.” He glanced at Dolores, who was eyeing him with distrust. “Alone, if you don’t mind.”

  “You can speak in front of Dolores. She knows all my secrets.”

  “I’d prefer not to.”

  “Very well.” To the Mexican woman, she said, “Go on home, Dolores. Sanchez should be through stacking wood now and you are both tired. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Are you sure, senora? I don’t mind staying.”

  “I’m sure. Mr. Walker is in my employ, I trust him.”

  Casey winced when Belle voiced her trust in him. He certainly didn’t deserve it.

  “Si, senora,” Dolores said, clearly not convinced she should leave.

  “Sit down, Belle,” Casey said after Dolores had hung up her apron and left through the front door.

  “Is something the matter, Mr.—Casey? Has someone aroused your suspicion?”

  “There is something wrong, but it’s not what you think.” He paced restlessly. “I’ve given your situation a lot of thought and can see only one solution.”

  Belle stared up at him through outrageously long lashes. “I might as well tell you I’m not inclined to follow advice from someone I hardly know.”

  “Nevertheless, I feel obligated to offer my opinion. Ever since you told me about your situation, I’ve been racking my brain for a solution that will please both you and your father-in-law. Just try to remember that what I’m going to suggest is best for everyone.”

  Belle started to rise. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m terminating your job, Mr. Walker.”

  “Sit down, Belle.” His voice was harsh, commanding. “You can’t go on like this. You hired me to protect your son, but surely you must know I won’t be around forever. What if the next man you hire is unscrupulous? What if he tries to take advantage of you?”

  Head held high in subconscious defiance, she glared at him. “I took a chance on you, didn’t I? Do you consider yourself unscrupulous? I know nothing about you except that you have a brother in Arizona. In a moment of weakness I told you my story, I didn’t ask for your advice nor do I want it now. I can handle it alone. What makes you think you’re qualified to offer advice?”

  Casey shrugged off Belle’s questions. The less she knew about him the better. He abruptly stopped his pacing and paused in front of her, scowling furiously. “Forget me. I’m not hiding from someone, you are. Give Tommy’s grandfather a chance to get to know the boy. Go to him. Work out a compromise. I’m sure he’ll be reasonable about visitation and such. You are the boy’s mother. Please, Belle, I implore you, stop running. McAllister will find you one day, and you could lose Tommy for good. I don’t want that to happen.”

  Belle leapt to her feet and flew at Casey, pounding on his chest with clenched fists. “No! Never! How could you suggest such a thing? I told you T.J. hates me. He’d never let me see Tommy again. Damn you, Casey Walker! Whose side are you on, anyway?”

  Casey grasped Belle’s wrists, trying not to hurt her as he brought them to her sides. “I’m only thinking of you and Tommy, Belle. I don’t want to see either of you hurt. How long can you keep running? You need someone to take care of you. You work much too hard in the diner. You need a man to pamper and love you.”

  “Are you suggesting you’re that man?” Belle made a disgusting sound deep in her throat, telling Casey without words exactly what she thought of that idea.

  If it would convince Belle to give up Tommy to McAllister without a fight, he’d tell her anything. He feared McAllister would hurt her worse than merely depriving her of her son. “Is that such an outlandish idea? We’re explosive together, Belle.” Truer words were never spoken. Tension rippled beneath the surface of his skin. His eyes had darkened, his nostrils flared and his grip upon her wrists had tightened. Even now his manhood defied confinement, provoked merely by her nearness.

  Belle pulled from his grasp, breathing hard, her eyes flashing angrily. “You and your suggestions can go to hell, Mr. Walker. I will never, I repeat, never give up my son. If you knew T.J. McAllister, you wouldn’t suggest such a thing.”

  “I’m sorry, Belle,” Casey said. “Sorrier than I’ve ever been in my life.” Belle’s refusal to compromise left him with no choice but to contact McAllister. But, dear Lord, could he do it? Could he actually tell McAllister where to find Tommy? Regret, guilt, shame, remorse, all those emotions made him feel like the lowest bastard who’d ever walked the face of the earth.

  On the other hand, there was Mark. Innocent of a murder charge, and depending on his big brother to get him out of prison. A man didn’t live who was more torn or tormented than Casey Walker.

  Belle stared at Casey and felt her anger slowly drain away. If the expression on his face was any indication, he was suffering his own private hell. She had no idea what had brought it on, but something inside her couldn’t let it continue. Her soft heart made her reach out to him, touching his arm gently.

  “I think I know what’s best for my son, Casey. We haven’t known one another long, so you can’t possibly understand the situation. Or convince me that you’re interested in me as a woman. I don’t know the reason for your anguish, but there is no reason to pretend with me. You have to know by now that no man is worth the loss of my son. Not even you, Casey Walker.”

  If Casey harbored the hope that he could talk Belle into giving her son up to McAllister, it had died with her last words. Truth to tell, he admired her determination. Most women would cave in to the pressure being applied by McAllister.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you. I had to try one last time to …”

  “To what?”

  “To make certain you knew what you were doing,” he improvised.

  “I do,” Belle vowed as she turned back to her chores.

  For his own peace of mind, Casey needed to make Belle understand why he was concerned about her and Tommy. But what could he say that wouldn’t send her and Tommy fleeing to only God knew where to escape McAllister? Misery flailed him unbearably. He couldn’t ever recall feeling such gut-wrenching guilt. Seizing Belle’s arms, he pulled her against him, trying to make her understand his position without words.

  Belle had no idea what Casey was saying as his lips came down on hers. Words were wrenched from him in a low growl. Whatever he was muttering was lost to her in the heat of Casey’s mouth and the melting strength of his arms.

  “I’m sorry, Belle, so damn sorry. Had I known. O
h, God, had I known … Too late … Too late …”

  Realizing the futility of his retrospection, Casey abruptly broke off the kiss and turned to leave.

  Reduced to a boneless heap by his kisses, Belle was stunned by his abrupt dismissal. “Casey, wait! What did you say? I don’t understand.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you do. You never will. If you only knew. … I have to leave for a few days, Belle. I have business to take care of. Have Sanchez watch over Tommy if you can spare him in the diner.”

  His words had a chilling effect. “Where are you going? Are you coming back?”

  “I’m coming back, Belle.” He knew she would need him after McAllister took her son, even though she might hate him for his part in it.

  Belle watched him disappear through the door, wondering if she would ever see Casey Walker again. She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter. She didn’t need a man, she only needed Tommy. It briefly occurred to her that Casey might tell T.J. where to find Tommy. But she quickly discarded the notion. She had never mentioned where T.J. lived. She didn’t know much about Casey, but what little she did know convinced her that he wasn’t the kind of man to pull so despicable a stunt. Surely he felt the same kind of attraction she felt, didn’t he? He would never hurt her like that, would he?

  Belle wanted to believe in the basic goodness of man, but had learned the hard way to trust sparingly. Casey had done nothing to earn her distrust except for trying to convince her to give her son up to McAllister. However much she tried to convince herself that she could trust Casey, a small niggling doubt remained. She vowed to be extra vigilant with Tommy until Casey returned and she learned why he had suddenly left town. For her own peace of mind she had to believe in Casey. Had to trust that he wouldn’t betray her to McAllister. It would destroy her to learn that Casey was like McAllister and men of his ilk.

  Casey boarded the stagecoach at the Wells Fargo office the following morning. He journeyed the entire distance to San Francisco in brooding silence, though he knew it would change nothing. He’d lost the choice to back out of this assignment the day he’d taken T.J.’s money and sent it to Simon Levy. His strong sense of duty was in direct opposition to his sense of honor. Since when had he developed a conscience? Casey wondered. This was the first time he could recall allowing sentiments to interfere with duty. And all because of a very courageous, immensely appealing young woman named Belle Parker McAllister.

  He’d met women more beautiful than Belle. Women perfect in every respect. Women without deformities. But he’d met no woman who engaged his fancy or defied logic or reason like Belle. If she possessed a modicum of sense she’d see the logic of allowing her father-in-law to raise Tommy, to give him the world, if he so desired. Perhaps he could act as mediator, Casey considered, and work out something whereby McAllister and Belle could share custody. The theory sounded entirely reasonable, which made Casey feel a helluva lot less like a heel than he had been feeling. If he put his mind to it, perhaps he’d find a way to make both parties happy.

  Two days later Casey stood before T.J. McAllister.

  “It’s about time, Walker,” McAllister said sourly. “Where in the hell have you been for the past month? I’d begun to think you’d taken off with my money.”

  “I always get my man, Mr. McAllister. I found your grandson, but there are some mitigating circumstances that need addressing before I tell you where he is.”

  McAllister’s eyes lit up. “You’ve found Tommy? Good God, man, you are good! My men have been a whole year looking for the lad without finding a clue to his whereabouts.”

  “Yeah, well, as I was saying, there are still some things that need defining.”

  Instantly suspicious, McAllister asked, “What things?”

  “For instance. What about the boy’s mother? Do you intend to share custody with her? Or give her visiting rights?”

  “Belle?” He gave a bark of laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding. The woman’s a whore. She could care less about the boy.”

  Casey felt his temper rising. “How well do you know Belle?”

  McAllister’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “The question is, how well do you know Belle? Are you falling for the whore? I told you she was good. I warned you about her. Look how she snared Tom. Lame or no, that woman lured Tom into her bed then talked him into marrying her.”

  “Cut the crap, McAllister! I think you know the truth about Belle but are afraid to admit it. You’re blind to everything but the need to salve your own conscience for Tom’s death. You think you can do that by giving Tommy everything his mother can’t.”

  “You weren’t paid to pass judgment, Walker. I gave you hard cash to find my grandson. You’ve found him, I’m satisfied. Now, tell me where he is.”

  “You haven’t answered my question. Are you willing to share custody with Belle? Or offer her a place in your home so she can see Tommy every day? It’s only right, you know.”

  “Who in the hell made you my conscience? I want nothing to do with that whore. If not for her my son would still be alive. There will be no sharing of custody. I don’t want Belle anywhere within my sight. And she’s not going to get a red cent of my money, either.”

  He’d tried, sweet Jesus, he’d tried. Nothing in Casey’s life had prepared him for something like this. He’d been accused of being cold, determined, and thoroughly merciless. Unfeeling. Even heartless. He’d had taken pride in his ability to do his job without becoming emotionally involved. He’d always brought in his man, always solved his case using whatever means available, and gone on to the next assignment with a clear conscience. Not this time. Oh, no, not this time. Something inside him balked at betraying Belle.

  “I feel sorry for you, McAllister. Wild horses couldn’t drag the information from me. It will be a cold day in hell when I tell you where to find Belle and Tommy.”

  McAllister leapt from his chair, waving his hands before Casey like a madman. “What do you mean? You took my money! You accepted the assignment. I paid you in good faith. I was right, wasn’t I? You’ve bedded the bitch.”

  Casey’s clenched fists and white lips should have warned McAllister, but they didn’t.

  “How was she, Walker? She must have been damn good in the sack to get you so fired up. Go ahead and screw her head off, it won’t change a damn thing. I paid you to do a job and you owe me. Give me the information I want.”

  Grasping McAllister’s lapels, Casey pulled him out of the chair and halfway across his desk, giving him a vicious shake for good measure. “Go to hell! I wouldn’t give you the time of day. You needn’t worry about your money.” Releasing McAllister, Casey grabbed paper and pen from the desk, scribbled an IOU and threw it in his face. “Here! I’ll see that you get every penny I owe you.”

  Free from Casey’s bruising grip, McAllister slumped back into his chair, his face mottled with rage. “Allan Pinkerton is going to know about this. I’m not without influence. I’ll see that you never work again for the agency.”

  A vision of Belle appeared before Casey’s eyes, her face tear-stained, her arms raised beseechingly as McAllister carried off her son. An instant later it was replaced by Mark’s face, wan and pinched from his months in prison, pleading with him to set him free. He was being torn from both sides. And in the center was his honor, his very reputation as a detective. In the end there was no choice but the one he had already made.

  “I said you’ll get your money back and I meant it. You have my IOU. I’ll deal with Allan Pinkerton. If he wants my resignation he’ll get it. Good day, sir.”

  “Damn you to hell! I want my grandson. You won’t get away with this, Walker. I’ll hire a hundred men to find him if I have to. No one cheats T.J. McAllister. No one!”

  McAllister was still raging when Casey left. He knew he’d made a serious enemy, and that his job was on the line, but he couldn’t betray Belle, not for all the money in the world. He depended on his long association with Allan Pinkerton to stand him in good stead. When he left McA
llister he went directly to the telegraph office.

  As concisely as possible, Casey told Pinkerton he was dropping out of the case and that he needed a loan of three thousand dollars. Several hours later Pinkerton wired back, stating that he trusted Casey’s judgment but expected a full report at his Chicago office. A bank draft would be mailed to him in care of General Delivery in San Francisco.

  The next day Casey boarded the Placerville stagecoach. Upon his return he was determined to tell Belle about his association with McAllister and his reason for being in Placerville.

  If Casey hadn’t been so distraught, he would have realized that McAllister wasn’t going to let the matter drop. Shortly after Casey left his office, McAllister hired two thugs to watch Casey and report on his movements. When told Casey had boarded a stagecoach, McAllister hurried to the Wells Fargo office and learned that Casey had purchased a ticket to Placerville. He dispatched his two hirelings forthwith to Placerville, giving them precise instructions and a letter that was to be left for Casey Walker.

  “Hello, Belle.”

  Belle’s heart leapt with gladness at the sight of Casey. “You’re back!”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t be?”

  She forced a smile. “It had entered my mind.”

  He returned her smile, though he felt little like smiling. What he had to tell Belle was bound to make her hate him.

  “Are you going to stay, Casey?”

  Casey’s smile faltered. He had wired Simon Levy before he left San Francisco and told him to contact him in Placerville if the missing witness was found. If the witness failed to respond to the reward soon, Casey knew he had to return to Arizona and conduct his own search. Mark was depending on him and he couldn’t let his kid brother down.