Shea wanted to stop him.She felt violated by his actions, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good.She would only be overpowered and look foolish.She was no match for these three men.For this one man.The good Lord knew she had been foolish enough already.Better to save her anger for the right time.Let them think her docile.For the moment.
Shea watched as he picked up the newspaper clipping.He turned to her.
“Why do you have this?”He sounded indifferent, but she somehow knew the question was not an idle one.
She wasn’t sure what to answer.How could she possibly explain?How could she explain finding out she had a father only after twenty-two years?How could she explain holding on to that likeness, the only one she’d ever had?
How could she explain havinghislikeness?Or a story condemning him?
Silence seemed to make his question echo.
“You don’t have much to say for yourself, do you?”
Shea had never felt at such a loss.Whatever she said, whatever she did, might bring more trouble, might hurt her father, might put her in further peril.She felt she was sinking in quicksand, and there was nothing to reach out for.Her legs trembled as his eyes seemed to bore into her, trying to rip out answers.
But then he turned back to the case, as if she were of no importance.He helped himself to several letters and read them, oblivious to her privacy or her feelings.He picked up her drawing pad, riffling through it until he found the sketch of Ben Smith.
“Christ,” he said, handing it Ben.“Bringingherhere was the most damn fool …” He stopped.Hesitated.But theherstill hung in the air.It was said with such disdain, even something close to hate.She shivered in the bright sun.
He turned back to her, a muscle working in his cheek.It was the first visible sign of emotion she’d seen in him.
Ben looked apologetic.“I thought maybe a trade …”
“For what?”
Ben shrugged.“A confession, perhaps.”
“Randall?”
Ben gave him a small smile.“It just seemed … opportune.”
“Beware of gifts, Ben,” Tyler said without a smile, then turned back to Shea.“They never come without strings, and I think this … lady has a damn long one.”
Ben shifted on his feet, like a small boy being chastised.
“It looks like you’ll have to stay here a while, Miss … Randall,” Tyler told her.
“No.I’m going to the Circle R.”
He was staring at her, and she wished she saw something in his eyes.The nothingness was frightening.It was like looking at a blank piece of canvas.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he said, but she knew he wasn’t sorry at all, at least not in her behalf.The tone, rather than apologetic, was mocking.“Your … talent makes that impossible.I can’t have pictures of Ben all over the territory.”
“You can keep it,” she said hurriedly.
“Ah, but you have too good an eye,” he said.“I expect you could draw it again.”
Shea swallowed, her silence confirming his words.She didn’t know how to lie or hide her feelings.She’d never had to learn, but now she regretted it.She resented his invasion into what should be hers alone.But he was right.She had a memory for faces, especially interesting faces, and Ben Smith had one of those.Though it didn’t compare with Rafferty Tyler’s for complexity.
“I promise—”
“I wouldn’t take the promise of a Randall if it was wrapped in angels’ wings.”
“Why?”she asked.“Because he helped bring you to justice?”
He snorted.
“You just want …” She stopped, not wanting to express the thought that was becoming more and more clear.
