Forever by Your Side (Willamette Brides #3) - Tracie Peterson Page 0,45
“I’m guessing some Rogue River language.” Which could be any number of a dozen languages.
“I’m certain it’s regarding the whiskey.”
“And someone named Smith. Do you know a man named Smith?”
“There are many people with the name Smith. Shh.” He pulled her into a crouch and waited several long seconds. “I thought I heard the sound of glass bottles.”
When her legs started to cramp, Connie tried to stand, but Clint refused to let her go.
“Stay down, or they might see us.”
Connie did as he commanded, fearful that if she did otherwise, it might completely backfire on her desire to clear her parents’ names. She wondered how much Clint knew. There must surely be some way to get him to confide in her.
“You know where it goes,” one of the men said in English.
They waited a few more minutes as the sounds of the men faded, and then Clint finally released Connie and helped her stand. Once they were on their feet again, she turned to face him.
“We should follow them and see where they take the crates. We might—”
But before she could say more, Clint pulled her into his arms and kissed her long and hard. His arms tightened around her. Connie had never experienced anything like this kiss, and for a moment she didn’t know what to do. Why was he doing this? Then her reasoning returned, and she pushed at his well-muscled chest and stopped just short of slapping him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She could only stare at him as though he’d lost his mind.
“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help myself. I’ve wanted to do that since you came back.”
“Is that your only excuse?” She was angry and startled, not to mention confused. Her feelings were such a mix of emotions that she wasn’t sure what to say or do. A part of her wanted to slap him. An equal part wanted to better explore what the kiss implied.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, I know. But I keep thinking of all the things you used to say to me—about how much you cared for me, how you loved me. I was selfish and foolish then, and my heart didn’t know what it wanted. Not only that, but you were still very young and . . .”
“Too young to tame my own heart.”
He grinned. “Well, if you had to tame it so much, it must still have feelings for me. Truth then must surely be truth now. You wanted me to kiss you, didn’t you?”
His words only made the situation more confusing, and Connie didn’t dare let him continue.
“Who is responsible for bringing the whiskey in?” she asked, changing the subject.
He chuckled. “I don’t know. I have my suspicions.”
“Who?”
“Well, a lot of folks think it’s your mother and father.”
“What?” She barely remembered to be surprised. “How can you possibly say that? You know they would never do something like that.”
“I didn’t say I thought they were doing it,” Clint replied.
“But you said you had your suspicions.”
“I don’t suspect your parents. I was only saying what others think. What I’ve overheard.”
“My parents love these people. You know that. You worked with them long before becoming an agent. You know they could never do anything to harm the Indians.” Connie was louder than she’d meant to be and lowered her voice. “You know they’re innocent.”
“I do believe that.” Clint took her by the arm and started back through the brush to the main road. “But a lot of folks think they’re guilty. They believe your parents are unhappy that they were replaced by the Catholic Church.”
“My parents . . . were unhappy . . . to have their ministry . . . taken away.” She was panting hard as Clint pulled her back up the bank to the road in quick strides. “But they’d never do . . . anything to . . . hurt the Indians.”
He continued to move along at a quick clip until the reservation buildings were in sight. Only then did he stop. “I’ll figure this out, Connie, but you need to stay out of it.”
“Does my father know about these crates being snuck in?” She continued to play dumb, hoping Clint might give her information she didn’t already have.
“Yes. We were together on a night just like this when they brought in another supply. We saw the crates stacked on the banks. Your father wanted to confront them, but I suggested we wait and see if we couldn’t learn who was behind it.”