JUSTIFIED DECEPTION Page 8

  "Win the case for the adoptive parents."

  "What if the biological mother had hired you?" Matt asked. "What would you do then?"

  "If I took the case, I'd win it for her," Brad replied. After a stretch of silence, Brad said,

  "Don't give me that holier-than-thou look. I'd only take the case if I felt that the biological mother should get her child back. In spite of what you think of lawyers, I do have some scruples.

  In this case, the child belongs with the only parents he's ever known, and the mother will probably accept a sizable sum of money to back off."

  The talking ceased for a few moments, and Ruth was about to settle in when Brad started talking again. "And speaking of adoptions, you've never talked about how you got Annie. It seemed pretty fast. You and Jody dropped in for Mom and Dad's wedding anniversary, mentioned nothing about adopting, then a couple of weeks later you had Annie. Anything you want to pass on to me? I have clients who've waited years to get a child. Even going to China or Haiti takes time. So, how did you do it?"

  "If you're questioning the legality of it," Matt said, his voice defensive, "don't. It was all on the up-and-up. Jody and I never mentioned it because I didn't want everyone horning in and telling me what to do. You guys have a knack for doing that."

  "Which agency?"

  "Hell, I don't remember!" Matt snapped. "Look, if I need your services I'll ask."

  "Hey, don't get your dander up."

  There was a long stretch of silence, except for the heavy thudding of Ruth's heart and the two short sentences in her head: Which agency? and Hell, I don't remember...

  Brad captured her attention again, when he said, "Well, I'll just give you a head's up, buddy.

  You might want to recall the name of the agency in case a biological mother comes forward some day and wants to take Annie back. It happens all the time."

  "I'll be a cold day in hell when anyone takes Annie from me." Matt stood.

  Ruth looked across the dying embers and saw him walk off into the darkness.

  Early the next morning they broke camp and were back at the ranch before noon. Ruth claimed she had a headache and stayed in her room until she heard Brad's plane take off and knew he was on his way to Portland. She prayed he'd soon be too caught up in his practice to give further thought to where he'd seen her, but she knew he was a man who wouldn't be satisfied until he'd solved the puzzle. But now he had another puzzle to solve. How and where Matt got Annie. Her biggest question was: which side would Brad take? Hers? Or Matt's?

  Because whichever side that was, she had a gut feeling, that would be the winning side.

  ***

  The following week, Matt took Annie to a cutting horse show, and Ruth tagged along with Edith on her weekly trip to Cedar Grove. While Edith was busy grocery shopping, Ruth secured a post office box and ordered the DNA kits, then she called Bill, who urged her to find Annie's birth certificate and send a photocopy of it to him as soon as possible. Her next call was to her parents, who were relieved to hear from her, but very troubled and wanted her to come home...

  "Mom, I can't deal with this right now," Ruth said. "I really need your support."

  "You have our support, honey. We're behind you like we've always been," Irene Sinclair said. "But I think you're taking too big a chance staying with the man who might have kidnapped Beth. He's got to be dangerous."

  “He just doesn't seem that way," Ruth said, quashing the image of a large, muscular man with a broad square jaw and whisky-brown eyes. "If the little girl is Beth, I can't imagine Matt as her abductor. It could have been a black market adoption like Bill suggested, in which case, Matt would be just as much a victim as I am."

  “But you don't know that's the case," her mother said. "And being so isolated... I feel very uneasy about this. I really do. Hold on, Dad wants to talk to you."

  In the background, Ruth heard her mother say, "You've got to talk her into coming home, Frank." The words became muffled, and Ruth knew her mother had covered the receiver. After a few moments her father came on the line and said, "Your mother and I are very concerned. We want you to come home."

  Ruth reiterated what she'd told her mother, ending with, "Dad, I have to do this even if I'm not sure the little girl is Beth. But if there's even the slightest chance she could be, I have to know. And I don't care about the danger." Her throat thickened, and she barely got out the words,

  "I just have to know... if it's Beth...." Then she couldn't say anything else, because tears had filled her eyes and clogged her throat.

  After a long pause, her father said, "Honey?”

  She sniffled and dashed a finger beneath each eye. "Until I know for sure, one way or another, I'm going to stay."

  "Okay," her father said, his voice resigned. "Just be sure to keep in touch. And promise you'll use good judgment, and not do anything rash if you learn that the child really is Beth."

  "I promise. And Daddy?"

  "What honey?"

  "Don't let Beth's candle go out while I'm gone."

  "We won't."

  After Edith finished her regular stops in town, they went to her son and daughter-in-law's house, where they had supper. By the time they returned to the ranch it was after eight.

  Expecting to find Annie asleep, Ruth was surprised to hear Matt's voice alternating between a lofty falsetto and a throaty baritone, accompanied by childish giggles. Ruth traced the hubbub to Annie's room, and watched in amusement from the hallway.

  Annie sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed, face flushed with laughter, while Matt, crouched on his knees, a book in hand that he glanced at periodically, and in a great display of theatrics, said in a falsetto voice, "Oh gentle knight, full of woe am I of thy departing, for I saw ne'er a man to whom I owed so good will...."

  Leaping to his feet, Matt looked down at the spot where 'Isolde' had crouched, and said in a deep voice, "Fair maid, ye shall understand that my name is Sir Tristan, and I promise thee faithfully that I shall be, all the days of my life, your knight...."

  "...And then," intoned Narrator Matt, "Sir Tristan gave Isolde a ring, kissed her hand and left, leaving her moaning and swooning in lamentation...." Spotting Ruth at the door, he winked, and said to Annie, "To be continued tomorrow."

  "No, Daddy, I want to hear more tonight."

  "Sorry, kiddo. Scoot under the covers. It's lights out time." He pulled the covers out from under Annie and fluffed her pillow. Annie settled back. "I don't want to go to bed," she whined.

  "I'm not sleepy. I'll lie here all night and stare at the ceiling."

  “You do that." Matt tucked the covers around her and kissed her on the forehead.

  "Can't I stay up a teeny weeny bit longer? Please, Daddy. With sugar on top?"

  "Sorry, squirt."

  "With sugar and whipped cream and a cherry?"

  "I'm afraid not."

  "I'm thirsty."

  "Then I'll have Ruth bring you some water."

  "I'm not thirsty."

  "That's what I thought." He clicked off the light, left the door ajar and stepped into the hallway. Smiling at Ruth, he whispered, "What did you think of my performance?"

  Ruth chuckled, and replied, "That I hope I'm not expected to measure up to it."

  "Unless you know the tales of King Arthur, Sir Lancelot, and Tristan backwards and forwards I doubt you could," Matt said. "And no, you're not expected to. Besides, I get as big a kick out of our bedtime shenanigans as Annie does." He gave Ruth's neck a little squeeze, and his hand remained draped there as he walked with her down the hallway.

  Ruth wanted to duck from under his hand, but knew it would be awkward. He was not touching her in an inappropriate. But she didn't want him to touch her at all, or wink at her, or even smile at her. She wanted to hate him. She wanted Beth back. And she wanted the person who had denied her four years of Beth's life prosecuted. But she was finding it progressively more difficult to believe that Matt Kincaid, who lamented in falsetto on bent knees, and tenderly tuck
ed Annie into bed, and kept a record of Annie's height on a Giraffe Growth Chart, could possibly be involved in any way.

  Unless there was another side of him she hadn't seen, a side she could truly hate...

  Turning her around to face him, Matt rested his hand on her shoulder, brushed her cheek with the pad of his thumb, and said, "Ruthie, Ruthie, Ruthie, you take life far too seriously. Show me those pretty little dimples."

  This time Ruth couldn't smile. Brad's words and Matt's response were still too fresh...

  Which agency?... Hell, I don't remember...

  When she said nothing, Matt said, "I'll need Annie up and dressed at six tomorrow morning.

  She'll be coming with us for the next few days to round up strays." He squeezed her arm and winked and said, "Sweet dreams," then turned and walked down the hallway toward his room, leaving Ruth staring after him and feeling flushed and fluttery and flighty as a school girl. A feeling that disturbed and agitated her. She desperately wanted to despise the man, but the reality of it was, she was finding it increasingly more difficult to keep from falling in love with him.

  ***

  In her room, five days later, Ruth stared at the worn, time-yellowed newspaper clipping with the photo of Beth. She shouldn't have it in her possession, she knew, but she couldn't bear to leave it behind. As she looked at the image and began to read the article about the abduction, the hideous episode came rushing back, the horrific mood swings, the need for everyone to know, to help look for Beth, to do something. Yet there was nothing that could be done. She'd contacted the local radio and TV stations, who'd contacted the national networks.

  Reminders of Beth had been everywhere, yellow ribbons on trees, Beth's face on grocery bags, and flyers, including one among other missing children on the long poster board at Walmart. And there was the unending internal dialog. Why me? Why Beth? Why? Why? Why?

  She'd cry herself into exhaustion at night and be drained of energy during the day. At times she'd felt so overwhelmed by the tragedy that suicide seemed the only way out. Yet that wasn't an option because she had to be there for Beth.

  But there had also been periods when everything seemed in slow motion, like moving in a surrealistic dream. Time ceased to exist. Days became meaningless. The whole terrible episode hadn't happened. It was a bad dream from which she would awaken. And then the cycle would start all over again—the shock, the disbelief, the anger, the crying. A vicious, never ending circle. Her mood swings were more subtle now, but so many things triggered them that she stayed constantly on guard, prepared to thwart them.

  Taking a long, labored breath, she packed away the clipping. Instead of wallowing in the past, she could better use the time to find Annie's birth certificate. With Annie and Matt and the ranch hands away, and Edith busy packing supplies into the pickup to be delivered to the campsite, this might be her only chance to slip into Matt's office across the hallway from the kitchen, where she'd seen a tall filing cabinet one day while Edith was in there cleaning. But until now, she didn't dare venture behind the usually closed door to the room.

  To her amazement, she located Annie's birth certificate with little effort. Matt, it seemed, was a very organized man. She also found several certified copies of the document, so she took a copy to send to Bill. She had just opened a file folder labeled Adoption when she heard Edith calling. Hastily she shoved the folder into the file cabinet and slammed the drawer, then quickly folded the copy of the birth certificate and shoved it down the front of her jeans. But when she turned to leave the room, she saw Edith standing in the doorway.

  "Were you wanting something in Mr. Kincaid's office?" Edith asked.

  "Well, yes. I mean no, not exactly. The fact is, I was looking for—" Ruth grappled for a reason to explain her presence in Matt's office "—that is, I wanted to find the books on King Arthur that Matt reads to Annie." She shrugged. "Obviously they"re not in here."

  Edith eyed her, dubiously. "All the books are in the living room." Her gaze sharpened on something beyond Ruth, and when Ruth turned to see what it was, she was mortified to find the adoption folder caught in the file drawer. Edith walked over and pulled open the drawer.

  "That's funny," she said, "it's not like Mr. Kincaid to leave things untidy." She glanced at the label, then returned the folder to the file and closed the drawer, saying, "We need to leave for the campsite. The men are always anxious for a good meal when they"re done rounding up strays."

  Ruth followed Edith down the hallway and out to the truck. She hoped Edith would dismiss the incident and say nothing to Matt, But she feared that would not be the case.

  ***

  For the next half hour, Ruth braced herself as Edith wheeled the pickup and horse trailer over the dirt road toward the campsite. Matt's instructions had been for them to bring the supply truck and horse trailer, unload the supplies and take Annie and her horse back to the ranch. He and the men would be heading into the mountains to track down a cougar that had been killing livestock, and he didn"t want Annie along for that.

  It was late afternoon when they arrived at the campsite—a dusty clearing on the banks of the river. The horses stood huddled together in a corral made of cut and peeled poles. Saddles were grouped with bridles tossed over saddle horns, bedrolls lay in disarray around a central campfire, a blue enameled coffee pot hung from a stick-teepee over smoldering embers, and clothes and boots were strewn everywhere.

  Edith eased the rig alongside the corral and cut the engine. What caught Ruth's attention when she climbed out of the truck was hoots and hollers accompanied by splashing. Walking up the embankment she startled to find the crew waist-deep in the river, obviously in the raw. She quickly turned away, then froze on hearing Annie's voice. She looked back. "Good God!" Annie, also in the raw and carefree-as-you-please, seemed oblivious to the fact that she was swimming with a bunch of naked men. " Annie!" Ruth cried. The splashing stopped and all heads looked her way. Although water came up to the men's waists, Ruth could tell from the undulating, flesh-colored bodies below the surface that they wore nothing.

  Focusing on Annie, she said, "Annie, come here right now."

  “But I just got in," Annie whined, "I want to swim longer."

  "Do as I say or I'll come in after you.”

  Reluctantly, Annie crawled up the embankment where Ruth snagged her arm with one hand and snatched up her jeans, tee-shirt and underwear with the other. After she"d dried Annie and helped her dress, she said, "Go help Edith unload the supplies. I have something to tend to here."

  Annie scurried off, and Ruth returned to the river. Catching sight of Matt bobbing waist-deep in the water, she planted her hands on her hips and said, "This is totally inappropriate. I want to talk to you right now!"

  "Fine." He started heading toward her.

  Aghast, she said, " Not here! When you're dressed!" She turned and headed for the truck, blood pumping a low steady throb as the sight of Matt's half-naked body became emblazoned in her mind. She could almost feel the rock-hard contours of him, so sleek, so muscular, so very male. Everything about the man was pure male. Just the thought of his broad chest and lean hard torso sent chills rushing through her. She rested against the truck and clasped her arms around herself, realizing she was shaking. She'd never had such a strong a reaction to the sight of a man.

  She'd barely had time to contain herself when she saw Matt walking toward to her. He wore boots and Levis, his hair was a tangle of damp curls, his bare chest glistened with moisture, and his face held a wry grin. As he approached, she found it hard to concentrate on what, exactly, she intended to say to him, distracted as she was by the sight of his broad chest and the play of muscles in his arms as he dried himself with a small towel.

  Conscious of her erratic pulse rate, and realizing he was waiting for her to speak, she said, "I can't believe you'd allow Annie to swim in the nude with a bunch of naked men." To her horror, her voice cracked on the word naked.

  One corner of Matt's mouth tipped up with a one-sided
smile. "Seeing naked men doesn't faze Annie. She's been swimming in the raw like the rest of the boys since I first started taking her on the trail when she was three."

  "Well, she's not one of the boys, and she's no longer three. She's a little girl, not very long from becoming a young woman, and if she doesn't learn modesty now she certainly won't learn it by the time she reaches puberty," Ruth said, attempting to hide the shakiness in her voice while trying to find some part of Matt to focus on that didn't set her nerves jangling and her heart skipping.

  "What do you suggest? That I set up a cabana by the river?" Matt said, while passing the cloth in a slow, leisurely movement over his upper torso.

  "That might be a start!" Unaware that she had done so, Ruth's gaze zigzagged across his chest and down his lean belly, following a thin line of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his well-worn, low-slung jeans. From the way the damp jeans clung to the very distinct male bulge pressing upward, it was obvious that Matt hadn"t bothered to put on underwear. Suddenly mindful of where she was staring, she snapped her gaze up. It was clear, from his wide grin that her intimate perusal had not escaped him.

  Eyes gleaming with mischief, he said, "It happens every time a woman undresses me in her mind."

  Ruth's cheeks felt as if on fire. "I did not undress you in my mind!" she said. "And I think you're vain to think that. The fact is, I"m not accustomed to seeing men umm… like that… I mean, to men wearing threadbare jeans with..." she paused.

  "Nothing under them?" he completed her thought. "Sorry, but that part of me is kind of sensitive, and I didn"t feel like shoving it into skivvies filled with briars. Besides, threadbare jeans are a hell of a lot more comfortable when riding all day than shoving my male part into a straight jacket." His lips quirked with a smile. "Is this better?" he cupped his hands over himself, leaving no doubt as to precisely what they were discussing.

  Ruth felt as if every erogenous part of her body had just gone on red alert. "I didn't mean you were exhibiting yourself now," she said in a wobbly voice, "I meant out there in the river."