Swallowing hard, Lara read the headline to the short article that accompanied the image.
Buck Clarkson Escapes Prison.
Lara’s stomach lurched. It couldn’t be the same man, all the way up here in Last Chance . . . Could it? Then again, if one were to escape prison, wouldn’t the smartest move be to go somewhere no one would recognize you?
Her fingers shook, and she clenched them into fists as she read the words under the headline. Mr. Clarkson, along with his associates, had apparently been sentenced in Denver for train robbery and murder. He’d been in prison since the prior fall.
And now he was gone without a trace.
Lara looked at the image again. It could be of anyone, she tried to tell herself. But the artist’s work was very good, and the resemblance was uncanny.
She stood, unable to remain seated any longer. So many thoughts on what could have happened filled her mind. But they hadn’t, thankfully. He’d gone his way—once he’d seen that she noticed him.
What would have happened if she hadn’t turned around?
Perhaps he would have simply stolen her reticule and run off. Or perhaps . . . Images of the blond man who had taken hold of her by the road ran through her mind. What was happening in Last Chance? Never before had Lara felt a reason to be afraid here.
She closed the newspaper.Denver. That was where Mitchell had come from. Perhaps he knew of this man.
Lara gathered up the newspaper and stepped outside. Striding toward the bunkhouse—and hoping no one was awake to see her doing something so scandalous—she hoped Mitchell could set her mind at ease.
Chapter Sixteen
The knock came, insistentand hard. And when Mitchell took the time to set aside the knife and the little duck he was carving for Joseph, the knock came again, even more insistently.
Something was wrong.
Thinking of a hundred different possibilities from fire to illness, Mitchell crossed quickly to the door and pulled it open.
Lara looked back at him, a newspaper in her hand and her eyes wide.
“Lara?” He almost didn’t believe it was her standing there. What would possess her to come down here so late at night?
“Please, may I come in?” she said, an urgent tone to her voice.
Mitchell looked behind him, as if somehow expecting to see someone else in this empty bunkhouse. “That really isn’t the best—”
