Part 6 (1/2)

Something told him that Cleo Arlington always spoke her mind, and he decided he liked that about her. No pretense. No gilding of the lily. No pretending to be anything she wasn't just to impress someone. She was who she was.

And if Inez Cheevers hadn't told him Cleo and Gwen Arlington were twins, he wouldn't have believed it.

”If you're all so determined about making that resort of yours a success, why are you running for mayor? Won't that take you away from the work that brought you here?”

Morgan nodded. ”Yes, it will, but I have good people working for me who can manage things on my behalf.”

Softly, Gwen said, ”You didn't answer Cleo's other question. Why do you want to run for mayor?”

He turned his attention upon her. ”Because I can do the job and do it well. And as a businessman, I've discovered that the governing bodies hereabouts are not always as helpful as they should be. They make it harder for new businesses to come to the community. I want to change that. I want to bring progress to Bethlehem Springs, and I want to see the town and its people flourish.” He challenged her with his eyes. ”Don't you, Miss Arlington?”

Gwen almost sputtered with indignation. What a question! Of course she wanted her town to flourish. But she didn't believe an outsider was the right person to make that happen. The mayor of Bethlehem Springs should be intimately acquainted with the people who lived here.

”I believe in progress, Mr. McKinley, and I want prosperity for those who live here. But I don't believe you know our town well enough to make those things happen in the right way.”

”Sometimes an outsider can see things more clearly than those on the inside.”

Gwen felt heat rising in her cheeks. What gall! Had he no humility whatsoever? As if they needed him to rescue their town, the same way he'd wanted to rescue her when his motorcar startled Shakespeare.

He smiled.

Was he laughing at her?

”Miss Arlington, I believe I have intruded on you and your family long enough.” He held out his empty gla.s.s to her. ”I thank you all for your hospitality.”

He was was laughing at her. He must be, for only a blind man wouldn't have seen how he'd angered her. She took the gla.s.s from his hand, making certain their fingers did not touch. laughing at her. He must be, for only a blind man wouldn't have seen how he'd angered her. She took the gla.s.s from his hand, making certain their fingers did not touch.

Morgan rose from the chair and placed his hat on his head. ”It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Arlington. Cleo.” He nodded one last time at Gwen. ”I look forward to further discussions about how we might improve Bethlehem Springs.” Then he turned and walked away, disappearing through the gate a few moments later.

”A pleasant fellow,” her father said.

”Pleasant?” Gwen felt as if the veins in her temples might explode. ”He was condescending and... and supercilious. Why, even his churchgoing must be to help him win the election. Wasn't this the first time he's been to your services? Isn't that what you said? What a hypocrite. Doesn't he know G.o.d won't be mocked?”

”Gwennie,” Cleo said, ”I think you're being a bit hard on the man. You don't know that's why he came to church. You don't want to be judging him unfairly.”

Gwen looked from her sister to their father and back again. Had Morgan McKinley won them over so easily? Her own family! Well, she wasn't so easily swayed. And if he'd thought this would make her rethink her own candidacy, he was in for a rude awakening.

EIGHT.

Harrison Carter folded the morning's newspaper and placed it on the table next to his breakfast plate. What he wouldn't like to say to Nathan Patterson about this edition!

”Susannah?” He looked toward the opposite end of the table. ”Is everything in readiness for tonight's supper party?”

”Yes, Harrison. Of course it is.”

He had not expected otherwise. His wife was the epitome of efficiency. Thirteen years his junior, Susannah had been groomed for marriage to a man of his station. Trained by her mother to properly manage her husband's household, to serve as the perfect hostess, and to bear and raise his children while doing everything in her power to please him, she was genteel, compliant, and attractive. Everything a wife should be.

Harrison pushed his chair back from the table and stood. ”I'll be home in time to change before our guests arrive.” He picked up the newspaper, then strode to her end of the table and leaned down to kiss the cheek she turned to him.

The Harrison Carters owned the largest home in Bethlehem Springs. It was built by a man made rich in the Idaho gold rush fifty years earlier; Harrison had purchased the three-story mansion for a song after the owner lost his fortune in the financial panic of 1893. Some men were fools - and he was glad of it. He often profited from the mistakes of others.

When he stepped out his front doorway a short while later, Harrison found his automobile and driver waiting for him. The drive to his office took only a matter of minutes, but it afforded him another chance to peruse the newspaper.

”Why They Are Running for Mayor,” the headline blared. Beneath it were three articles, written by the candidates, about what they hoped to accomplish if elected.

Hiram Tattersall, as could be expected, came off sounding like the buffoon he was. Gwen Arlington's piece was articulate and insightful. Unfortunately, so was Morgan McKinley's.

His eyes narrowed as he folded the paper once again. Two things were needed. First, he must convince Tattersall to withdraw. He didn't want him taking even one vote away from Harrison's chosen candidate. Second, he needed to discover - or manufacture, if necessary - something that would discredit McKinley. The second would be more difficult than the first, especially since the election wasn't that far off.

The motorcar rolled to a stop on Main in front of the law office. The driver was quick to get out and open the door for his employer.

”Be ready to take me home at five-thirty,” Harrison said as he disembarked.

”Yes, sir.”

He glanced up at the sign on the building. Harrison Carter Harrison Carter, Attorney-at-Law Attorney-at-Law. What the sign did not say was that Harrison was an ambitious man who knew what he wanted. And that once he knew, he went after it.

What he wanted now was that land McKinley had purchased just weeks before Harrison received confirmation - confidential confirmation - that there was a wealth of gold hidden in the mountains to the north of town. If he'd known anyone else had been interested in purchasing the land, he would have made an offer sooner. But he hadn't known.

It wasn't right that someone like McKinley could sweep in here and take what Harrison had meant to be his. And somehow he must persuade McKinley this wasn't the right place for him after all.

Standing outside the main lodge at the resort, f.a.gan Doyle slapped the newspaper against his thigh and laughed. ”Boy-oh, I'm thinkin' you'll have no easy win over Miss Arlington.”

Morgan nodded his agreement. He too had been impressed with Gwen's article in that morning's Daily Herald. Daily Herald. It revealed intelligence and integrity, as well as her heart. It should give her an edge at the ballot box. It revealed intelligence and integrity, as well as her heart. It should give her an edge at the ballot box.

Not liking the direction of his thoughts, he cleared his throat. ”Bring me up to date on the construction. Anything particular I should know?”

f.a.gan's grin disappeared. ”Sure, and there is one thing you should know.” He jerked his head to the right, then turned in that direction.

Morgan fell into step beside him.

”I don't know when it happened. When everyone's workin', it makes for a racket. All the hammerin' and such. Still, 'tis hard to believe we never heard a thing.”

”Heard what?”

Just as Morgan asked that question, they reached one of the larger storage sheds - the one holding the window gla.s.s that had arrived by freight wagon two weeks earlier. f.a.gan yanked open the door. Morgan stepped inside and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. When they did, he felt his stomach sink. Shattered gla.s.s lay everywhere.

”Not a whole pane left amongst 'em,” f.a.gan said.

Morgan stepped deeper into the shed. Gla.s.s crunched under his shoes.

Who did this? Is it related to what happened up at the dam?

As if reading his mind, f.a.gan said, ”Young boys up to a bit of mischief, I'm thinkin'. The shed door wasn't locked, though I promise it will be from here on in.”

Morgan drew a deep breath as he turned to face his friend. ”I'll order more windows as soon as I'm back to town.” He stepped outside into the sunlight. ”In the meantime, we'd better hire some guards with dogs to help patrol the site.”