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knew the sights and sounds and smells of that saloon. The Golden Landing had been the first wooden building constructed in town. His mother had worked there for as long as he could remember.
Without trying to he could recall the sound of her weary footsteps on the stairs as she'd climbed up to their room. Year after year she'd worked washing glasses, serving customers, cleaning up after everyone had gone home. Time and time again she'd been offered money to warm a man's bed. With a growing boy to provide for, she must have been tempted to take the easy way out. But she hadn't. She'd kept their tiny room spotless, him in food and shoes. Every year he'd watched her grow weaker. He'd quit school to work, but the extra money hadn't helped improve her cough, or changed the gray tinge to her skin.
He swallowed hard, fighting the memories. His mother had been a decent hardworking woman. But no one in Landing had cared. She'd worked in a saloon and hadn't married his father. That was all anyone had needed to know.
He turned away from the building and the past. As he had several times already that day, he wondered if he'd made a mistake by coming back. The idea of returning to Landing and making his peace with the town had sounded so easy. Now he wanted to forget he'd ever heard of the place. And Megan Bartlett.
Without trying, he could feel her body pressed against his and taste the sweetness of her mouth. Damn. He'd never been able to resist her. He wouldn't have come back if he'd known she was here. Why hadn't she married and moved away? Now he was going to have to deal with the fact that he'd once offered his heart to her, exposed his most secret self and she'd thrown all of it back in his face. She'd reminded him he was just that bastard Justin Kincaid and that he'd been a fool to think she might have cared about him.
The anger might be old, but it still lived inside of him. He wished it would burn hot enough to allow him to make her pay for what she'd said and done, but that wasn't possible. He could never hurt Megan. Which is why he had to stay out of her way.
As he crossed the dark, empty street, he noticed light shining out of the sheriff's office. He hadn't lit any lanterns before he'd left, so he must have visitors.
As he approached the building, he saw two men standing in front of his desk. One of them turned toward the window. The muscles in Justin's stomach clenched tight. He recognized the light brown hair and mustache. It had taken Wyatt the better part of five months for it to grow in that thick. He'd been so proud of his mustache that Justin wasn't surprised to see he still wore it, after all these years. He didn't know the younger man standing next to Wyatt, but he knew who they were. The gleaming silver badges on their chests told him. His deputies.
He walked softly toward the door, then paused before entering. Wyatt had been one of the boys who had taken pleasure in beating Justin up. When Justin had grown big enough to hurt back, Wyatt had given up his game. Justin wondered if his old enemy knew who the new sheriff was.
He opened the door and stepped inside. The two men turned toward him. The stranger gave him a half smile, but Wyatt stared as if he'd seen a ghost.
"Evening, gentlemen," Justin said. He walked closer to the men. "I'm Justin Kincaid, the new sheriff of Landing."
The smaller, dark-haired man held out his hand. "Daniel Thomas, Sheriff. It's a pleasure to meet you." They shook hands. Justin studied the younger man, taking in the firm set of his jaw and the straightforward appraisal of his eyes.
"Thomas," he said. "How long have you been in town?"
"About three weeks, sir. I worked as a deputy up North for a while. I'm sure excited about this job."
"Good." Justin turned his attention to the other man. "Evening, Wyatt."
"Justin." Wyatt's blue eyes met his. Justin read the confusion there, the shock and anger. Then all the emotions were banished, and the other man smiled. "Welcome home."
Justin walked over to his desk and picked up a piece of paper. "I've got a contract that says I'll be here for a year.
I won't accept less than complete loyalty and obedience. You can either work with me, or move on. Which is it to be?"
Wyatt shifted his weight and brought his right hand up to rest on his waist, right above the butt of his pistol. Justin didn't blink. He wasn't armed, but that wasn't something he cared about right now. V>/yBtt wasn't going to draw, the man was just testing him. He didn't mind the testing, what he cared about was Wyatt's decision. He would rather be a man short than work with someone he couldn't trust.
