Free The Rustler by Linda Lael Miller

fingers, but refrained. “I was thinking maybe I could visit her at Christmas, but if she’s not really my aunt—”
    â€œYou may visit me whenever you want,” Sarah told him, aware that she was overstepping, and not caring. When she got Charles alone, she’d have a word with him about this “bastard” business, and leaving a ten-year-old boy at boarding school over the holidays.
    Owen’s face brightened, causing his freckles to stand out. “Really?”
    â€œEnough,” Charles said coldly. “Philadelphia is a long way from Stone Creek. Have you forgotten that we just spent a week on a train?”
    Owen subsided as suddenly as if he’d been slapped.
    Doc Venable cleared his throat and turned the conversation in a new direction. “I understand you’re keeping the peace around town while your brother is away, Mr. Yarbro,” he said.
    Wyatt shifted in his chair, oddly uncomfortable with the remark. “Yes, sir,” he said. “And I’d appreciate it if you called me Wyatt.” His gaze moved to Sarah. “You, too, Miss Tamlin.”
    Sarah blushed.
    â€œMy, but we are a friendly bunch, aren’t we?” Charles asked dryly. His nostrils were slightly flared, and the skin around his mouth looked tight.
    â€œI reckon most of us are, anyhow,” Wyatt said quietly.
    â€œCan I call you Wyatt, too?” Owen wanted to know.
    â€œSure,” Wyatt said. “Long as I don’t have to call you ‘Mr. Langstreet.’”
    Charles reddened.
    Owen giggled with delight. “Nobody calls me ‘Mr. Langstreet,’” he said. “I’m only ten. ”
    Wyatt’s lips twitched. “You could have fooled me,” he replied. “Like I said this afternoon, I’d have said you were forty if you were a day. Just a mite short for your age.”
    Charles favored Sarah with a pained look. Again, she wondered why he’d brought Owen to Stone Creek, when he seemed, at least at the moment, barely able to tolerate the child’s presence.
    â€œYou ever seen a man as short as Owen here, Doc?” Wyatt asked, well aware that he’d gotten under Charles’s skin and clearly enjoying the fact.
    â€œCan’t say as I have,” Doc said, regarding Owen thoughtfully.
    Owen beamed.
    â€œIs everyone ready for dessert?” Sarah asked brightly.
    She served strawberry preserves on shortbread, and poured coffee for the adults. Earlier, she’d longed for the evening to end. Now, she realized that Charles was the only unwelcome guest. Doc, Wyatt and Owen had lifted her spirits with their banter.
    Charles was the first to lay his table napkin aside, push back his chair, and stand. “I’ve got a meeting tomorrow in Flagstaff,” he said. “It came up unexpectedly. Sarah, I wonder if I might speak to you in private.”
    Sarah felt a prickle of dread, but she welcomed the chance to talk to him about Owen, out of the boy’s earshot. “Certainly,” she said. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
    Owen remained in his chair, his eyes fixed on his plate. He seemed to have shrunk a full size, and his head was bent at an angle that made Sarah’s heart hurt.
    She proceeded to the front door, Charles following.
    â€œI can’t leave the boy alone at the hotel,” Charles said, before she had a chance to speak. “Will you keep him while I’m away?”
    Sarah nodded, surprised. She’d expected some kind of harangue.
    â€œI might be gone for several days,” Charles warned.
    â€œI’ll look after him,” she promised. “Charles, I—”
    Something ominous flickered in Charles’s eyes.
    Sarah straightened her spine. “He refers to himself as a bastard. Owen, I mean.”
    â€œHe’s precocious,” Charles said, taking out his pocket watch and checking it with a frown. “And he lies constantly.”
    â€œIs he