Читать книгу: «Jared's Runaway Woman»

It was the stranger, the man she’d kissed in the alleyway.

But he was more than that.

Kinsey saw the stranger and Sam in profile. Same chin. Same nose. Same black hair.

They both turned to her. Eyes and mouth. Nearly identical. Sam’s features were soft. The man’s were hard, straight and rugged. This was what her son would grow up to look like.

Kinsey’s blood ran cold.

Jared Mason had found her.

Judith Stacy fell in love with the West while watching TV Westerns as a child in her rural Virginia home—one of the first in the community to have a television. This Wild West setting, with its strong men and resourceful women, remains one of her favourites. Judith is married to her high school sweetheart. They have two daughters and live in Southern California.

Recent novels by the same author:

MARRIED BY MIDNIGHT

MAGGIE AND THE LAW

WRITTEN IN THE HEART

THREE BRIDES AND A WEDDING DRESS

(in Spring Brides anthology)

THE LAST BRIDE IN TEXAS

THE HIRED HUSBAND

A PLACE TO BELONG

(in Stay for Christmas anthology)

JARED’S RUNAWAY WOMAN

Judith Stacy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To David, Judy and Stacy—who else?

Chapter One

Colorado, 1887

Kinsey Templeton watched the passengers file out of the stagecoach at the depot across the street. Horses and wagons passed between them kicking up little swirls of dirt. She squinted her eyes against the bright afternoon sunlight and craned her neck for a better view.

A husband and wife. Two women and a young boy. A man traveling alone. All tired and dusty, probably hungry, stretching their legs and drawing fresh breaths of the clean air.

Since arriving in Crystal Springs several months ago, Kinsey watched the arrival of nearly every person who set foot in town. The task had grown more difficult lately. The stage came more frequently now. The railroad had made the town a regular stop on its line, bringing even more new faces. She had her job, too, at the boardinghouse. Kinsey was probably the only person in Crystal Springs who arranged their day to match the stage and train schedules.

She was probably the only one who needed to.

With a quick glance around, Kinsey checked to see if any of the merchants she knew on Main Street or her friends going about their business seemed ready to stop and chat. No one did. No one at the stage depot took notice of her either.

She was all but invisible to everyone arriving in Crystal Springs. Twenty-five years old, her brown hair tucked beneath a bonnet, she wore the same sort of clothing as all the women in town. She looked as if she belonged there.

No one noticed that she watched the stage passengers, scrutinizing their appearance, their clothes and manners. Even if anyone commented about her odd behavior, Kinsey wouldn’t have changed her ways. She couldn’t. She had no choice.

Because she knew that still, after all the miles, all the towns and all the these years, someone would come after her.

How would she recognize him? A family resemblance? Maybe. Maybe not. More likely his clothing. Eastern. Well-cut and expensive. His appearance would be out of place here in the West. He’d have the look of a dandy. A thief.

A predator.

Kinsey turned her attention to the husband and wife in front of the depot. The two of them talked for a few minutes before he pointed to the White Dove Café down the street. The couple was passing through, Kinsey decided, and focused on the two women and young boy who were now speaking to the express agent. She dismissed them as quickly, realizing they were, like so many other travelers she’d seen, inquiring about their layover time. She settled her gaze on the man who’d been the last to exit the stage.

His back was to her as he gazed westward down the street. Tall, wide-shouldered and long-legged. Hours on the cramped stage had surely been difficult for a man his size.

He wore dark trousers and vest, and a pale blue shirt. His black hat covered most of his equally black hair. A pistol was holstered low on his thigh. He carried a small satchel in his hand.

The man seemed to fit in, in dress and manner, at least from what she could see from across the street. Yet a unease crept over Kinsey, as if—

He turned quickly to answer the shotgun rider who’d called to him from atop the stage. Kinsey’s heart rushed into her throat.

Good gracious, he was handsome. Clean-shaven and carefully groomed despite the long stagecoach trip, yet somehow displaying a rugged air at the same time. Long limbs, stolid, sturdy. He carried an air of confidence, perhaps bordering on arrogance, as he spoke. A man used to being in charge.

The shotgun rider tossed down a valise and he caught it easily. He was staying in Crystal Springs. Kinsey’s stomach fluttered unexpectedly and her heart thudded harder until—

“Mama! You’re squeezing me!”

Kinsey gasped and leaned down to her son, easing her grip on his hand and pulling it up to plant a kiss on his tiny fingers.

“Mama’s so sorry, Sam,” she said, watching the little frown disappear from his face. “Let’s go into the store. I’ll bet Miss Ida has a treat for you.”

He darted ahead of her in typical five-year-old fashion, scooting through the open door of the MacAvoy General Store before Kinsey could catch his hand again. She smiled with motherly pride. Sam was a beautiful child, with dark hair and blue eyes. He was a joy. Smart, too. Miss Peyton had allowed him to start school already. The townsfolk had taken to him—and Kinsey—immediately. Crystal Springs felt like home now, despite the short time they’d lived there.

Kinsey headed into the general store, knowing she’d find Sam sitting on the counter, Ida Burk presenting him with a peppermint stick from one of the glass display jars. But at the doorway she turned back and cast another look at the stage depot. At the man.

In that instant he turned her way, and for a second their gazes met and held. Kinsey’s breath caught. Her heart started up its thumping again and her stomach gave a quick lurch. He stared right back at her, frozen, as she was, for a few seconds.

Kinsey came to her senses with a little gasp and dashed into the general store, leaving the stranger staring after her.

What the hell was he doing.

Jared Mason gave himself a mental shake, silently admonishing himself for blatantly ogling the woman across the street. True, she was pretty; he could tell that even from a distance. And true, he’d been cooped up on the stage for days—and before that, weeks on the train—and this was the first woman who’d caught his eye, so he guessed he owed it to himself to enjoy the view.

Yet that wasn’t what he was here for.

Jared adjusted his grip on his valise and satchel, and headed down the street toward the hotel the shotgun rider had told him about.

Walking, stretching his legs felt good. Jared kept his pace steady, more interested in looking over the town than getting to the hotel.

Crystal Springs, Colorado, seemed like a prosperous place. Jared spied stores, restaurants, a bank, a hotel and several other businesses. Men in suits roamed the street alongside cowboys carrying guns on their hips, miners with long beards, women in gingham dresses. The town looked clean, and from the talk he’d heard on the stagecoach, the place was growing.

Another new face among the townsfolk wouldn’t draw much attention, Jared decided, and that suited his purpose well. He needed to blend in, to look like he belonged. The element of surprise was essential. He’d known that since he set out on this trip, several weeks and thousands of miles ago.

After crossing the Mississippi, Jared had abandoned the private railroad car and sent it back to New York, continuing the journey in the cars with the other passengers. Over the next weeks at some of the train stops, he’d slowly changed his appearance.

Suit, silk shirt and cravat exchanged for Levi’s trousers, vests and cotton shirts. Italian leather shoes gone, replaced by boots. A wide-brimmed black Stetson hat. He’d bought a pistol and shoved it into the holster on his hip; he had yet to fire it but he did know how to load it.

The transformation of his appearance had been completed somewhere in Kansas. Jared didn’t recall exactly where now. The train depots, the small towns, the scenery had blurred a long time ago.

In the town of Cold Creek, about fifty miles to the east, Jared had abandoned the train. He couldn’t take another day of cinders and smoke blowing in through the open windows, the clacking of the rails, the relentless swaying, the screaming whistle. He boarded the stagecoach bound for Crystal Springs.

Jared glanced down at the satchel he carried and the technical journals tucked inside. They’d saved his sanity, along with the newspapers he’d bought along the way.

All he’d been able to do for the duration of the crosscountry trip was read. And think. Think about what he’d lost. And what he’d come here to get back.

At the corner he stopped and eyed the Crystal Springs Hotel across the street, suddenly anxious to get inside, book a room, get cleaned up and grab a few hours of sleep. But his gaze swung to the general store down the block and the spot where he’d seen the pretty woman standing in the doorway. She was gone now, but her image lingered in his mind.

She’d had a market basket on her arm so she was probably shopping. For supper, maybe? For her family?

A raw surge of emotion ripped through Jared. A cozy home. A warm kitchen. A good meal on the table. Someone special waiting.

“Damn…”

Jared bit off a worse curse as the painful reminder of why he’d come here twisted inside him. He trudged on toward the hotel, as anxious as ever to get this job done. Once more he silently vowed he wouldn’t go home empty-handed. And after this long, arduous journey, he wasn’t particular about how he accomplished his task.

But he wouldn’t fail. He’d head back east quickly.

As soon as he got what he’d come here for.

Chapter Two

“That’s not what I heard,” Lily Vaughn said, raising her eyebrows.

Kinsey glanced up from the two pans of frying chicken on the cookstove and looked at her friend at the worktable beside her. Lily was only a few years younger, pretty, with a head full of wild golden curls she struggled to keep contained in a bun at her nape.

“What did you hear?” Kinsey asked.

Lily looked around the kitchen, causing Kinsey to do the same. The big room held enough cupboards, cabinets and workspaces to provide the two meals a day necessary to keep the boardinghouse residents happy. Kinsey had come to work there, cooking and cleaning, shortly after arriving in Crystal Springs.

“Well, I heard that after church last Sunday, the two of them went for a walk down by the creek and—” Lily leaned in and whispered in Kinsey’s ear.

She gasped and pulled away. “My goodness, she—”

“Are you two girls gossiping again?”

Nell Taylor came through the swinging door from the adjoining dining room, giving them a stern look.

“Because if you are,” Nell said with a sly smile, “you’d better wait until I get in here so I can hear it, too.”

Kinsey giggled, at ease in the Taylor home. Not only had Nell given her a job but she also allowed her to live in a room off the kitchen at the rear of the house. It was small, but plenty big enough for Kinsey and Sam. Nell had given Lily a room up on the third floor of the big house next to her own when the young woman had come to work for her a few weeks ago.

Nell’s husband, the woman was fond of saying, did things in a grand way, except save money. He’d died, leaving his widow nothing but the house. Nell had converted it into a boarding home and managed quite nicely with Lily and Kinsey as hired help.

“I was hoping Kinsey would have some gossip for us, Nell,” Lily said, returning to the biscuit dough on the worktable. “Did you hear anything more about that hateful old Miss Patterson while you were in town this afternoon?”

“Some people prefer to think of Bess Patterson as set in her ways,” Nell pointed out.

“I think she’s mean and completely unreasonable,” Lily said. “What sort of woman would hold a church hostage—just to get her own way?”

“It’s her money,” Nell said. “She can decide what she wants the church to look like.”

“I still say it’s shameful,” Lily declared.

Kinsey thought the same but didn’t say so, as she stirred the pot of potatoes boiling on the stove. The town’s only church had burned to the ground and Bess Patterson, the wealthiest and, some said, most peculiar woman in Crystal Springs, had offered to pay for its rebuilding—provided the structure met her specifications. So far, none of the plans met with her approval.

“I didn’t hear anything new on the subject at the general store,” Kinsey offered.

Both Lily and Nell looked disappointed. Nell got a stack of plates from the cupboard and headed back into the dining room.

“So what is new in town?” Lily asked, cutting biscuits from the dough.

The image of the stranger from the stagecoach bloomed large in Kinsey’s mind. He’d lurked in her thoughts ever since she’d hurried into the general store this afternoon to avoid his gaze, and once again his memory made her stomach a little jumpy. But just why that happened, she wasn’t sure.

“Well?” Lily prompted.

“Nothing,” Kinsey said quickly. “Nothing’s new in town.”

“Not a thing?” Lily asked hopefully, as if it might prompt her to recall something.

Stalling for time and struggling to put thoughts of the stranger aside, Kinsey glanced out the window at the boys playing in the neighbor’s yard. She spotted Sam quickly, running and waving a stick alongside the Gleason boys. Dora Gleason had four sons; one more child in her yard didn’t matter one way or the other, she’d said. Sam was close to the same age as the Gleasons and they all got along well.

“I saw Isaac in town,” Kinsey said softly.

Lily’s spine stiffened. “Sheriff Vaughn, you mean?”

“I mean your husband.”

Lily jammed the biscuit cutter into the dough and, after a few minutes asked, “Did he say…anything?”

“He said—”

“No. Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“Lily, you know I’ve stayed out of the business between the two of you but—”

“Please, Kinsey….” Lily closed her eyes and turned her head away.

Kinsey wiped her hands on her apron and touched her friend’s arm. “I understand.”

Lily turned to her again, tears welling in her eyes.

“It’s hard enough dealing with…what happened…”

“I know.”

“Oh, just look at me carrying on so.” Lily pulled out of her grasp and swiped at her tears with the hem of her apron. “And in front of you, of all people. I’m so sorry, Kinsey. How thoughtless of me. Here you are a widow with a little boy to raise all by yourself. You’ve lost your husband and you probably resent the way I’m treating mine.”

“It’s all right,” Kinsey said, because, really, it was.

She hadn’t taken sides in the Vaughns’ marital problems but she understood the situation well enough to know there was no easy answer.

“Do you miss your husband terribly?” Lily asked.

“Well…” Kinsey lowered her lashes and drew in a breath, trying to appear brave, as she always did when the matter of her dear departed came up.

“It’s hard for you to talk about him.” Lily shook her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Kinsey pushed her chin up. “It’s…difficult.”

“Why don’t you go on over to the White Dove?” Lily suggested, seemingly anxious to get off the subject of husbands, both living and dead. “Saturday is their busiest night and if you go over now, you can get a jump on those dishes and get home early, take your time getting ready for services tomorrow.”

On Sundays the boardinghouse didn’t provide meals for its residents, other than a cold breakfast. It was the only day Kinsey, Lily and Nell could call their own.

“But I’m not finished here,” Kinsey said, waving toward the boiling and sizzling pots and pans on the cookstove.

“I can do it,” Lily insisted. “You run on. And don’t worry about Sam. I’ll make sure he comes back from the Gleasons before dark.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Kinsey said, feeling a little guilty.

“Of course I’m sure,” Lily said.

Kinsey exchanged her apron for her wrap, bonnet and handbag and went out the back door. Her gaze settled on Sam still playing with the other boys, and immediately all troubling thoughts left her. She called to him and he rushed over, still clutching the stick in his hand.

“Having fun, honey?” she asked, kneeling in front of him.

“Yeah, Mama,” he said breathlessly, bouncing on his toes and waving the stick. “I shot ’em all.”

She smiled and smoothed back his damp bangs. “Mama’s going to the White Dove now. Miss Lily will come get you in a little while. You stay right here with the Gleason boys. Understand?”

“Okay, Mama,” he said, glancing back at the boys still running through the yard.

“Give Mama a hug.”

She opened her arms and Sam launched himself against her, his smooth cheek resting on hers, both arms curled around her neck. Kinsey held him to her, soaking up the treasured moment.

Then he pulled away and she managed to get a quick kiss on his cheek before he dashed back into the fray, shooting the Gleason boys with his pretend gun.

Kinsey rose slowly, her heart aching a little. Until Sam came along, she hadn’t imagined the depth of love she could feel for another human being.

He’d changed everything. Given her purpose, given her a passion for life she thought she’d lost years ago. Her love for the child had awakened a fierceness that she’d not known she had. Maybe no woman knew she possessed it until she had a child of her own. A child she’d lay down her life for.

A child she’d kill for.

Tears welled in Kinsey’s eyes, and the intensity of her feelings hardened her stomach into a tight knot. She’d keep Sam safe.

No matter what.

* * *

Jared settled into a chair beside the front window of the White Dove Café and tossed his hat into the empty seat beside him. The holstered pistol pulled against his thigh, annoying him. He wasn’t used to wearing the thing. He’d even forgotten it in his hotel room just now and was halfway down to the lobby when he remembered it and had to go back for it.

The restaurant was still busy, even though it was late, and the delicious aroma of the food made Jared’s mouth water. A good hot meal was just what he needed right now.

After getting off the stage earlier today, he’d gotten a room and a bath at the Crystal Springs Hotel, then lain down, intending to grab a few minutes of rest only to wake up several hours later. Staring into the dimly lit hotel room, it had taken him a while to remember where he was. He sprang out of bed and got dressed, grateful for the solid floor beneath his feet instead of the buck and sway of trains and the stagecoach.

The serving girl, a young woman with pale blond hair, approached the table carrying a coffee pot.

“Hi. I’m Dixie. Menu’s up on the wall,” she said, waving toward the chalkboard by the front door. She leaned down to fill his cup, resting her hand on the back of his chair. “See anything you—like?”

All he could see were her bosoms about six inches from his face, reminding him of what a long uneventful journey the trip from New York had been.

“Just, ah, just bring me whatever’s good,” he said.

Dixie’s smile turned sultry. “Oh, it’s all good.”

She winked, then sauntered across the restaurant and through the swinging door to the kitchen.

Jared doused his coffee with sugar and sipped as he looked out the window, avoiding the gazes of some of the other diners who’d turned to stare.

The last of the sun cast long shadows down the dirt streets. Few people moved about as the stores closed for the night. Farther down the street he caught a glimpse of the Wild Cat Saloon. The place was brightly lit and already a stream of cowboys and miners passed through the bat-wing doors. Saturday night, he remembered.

His mind swept back to memories of other Saturday nights in the thirty-two years of his life. Everything from suppers in a tuxedo to grabbing for the last pork chop off the platter in the lumber camp chow hall. Jared smiled at the thoughts.

His father had built a highly successful construction business in New York and had insisted that all of his five sons learn it from the ground up. That had meant summers at lumber camps and sawmills, sweeping up offices, working as an apprentice to architects and engineers before being sent off for a formal education. It had led to Jared, the oldest son, spending most of his time away from home.

And it had led to the death of his closest brother.

A different woman—this one with gray hair and a no-nonsense demeanor—brought him a plate of hot food. He dug in, turning his attention once more out the window. Jared took the time to study the buildings along Main Street as he ate, a habit deeply ingrained in him.

Wooden structures with simple lines. Functional. Nothing fancy. But that’s the sort of construction called for here. It would change, though, as the town grew and a bigger, more diversified population brought new ideas with it. Towns like Crystal Springs drew all sorts of people.

He wondered what it was, exactly, that had drawn the woman who’d run off with his brother’s baby to this place.

Clark. Younger than Jared by only a year. The two brothers had been inseparable growing up. They’d stayed close, exchanging letters even during the time Jared had been in Pennsylvania overseeing the construction of a mill for his father’s company, and Clark had been in Virginia doing the same for a factory and warehouse complex.

Jared had been surprised the day he’d received the letter from Clark saying he’d gotten married.

He’d been devastated the day he got the telegram telling him that Clark had died.

Jared had never met Beth Templeton Mason. No one else in the family had met her either, except his mother who’d traveled to Virginia for a visit shortly after the wedding.

No one in the Mason family knewquite what to think when the widow had shipped Clark’s body home to New York, along with his personal effects, and was never heard from again. They’d been content to leave it at that until a few months ago when Jared’s mother had come across a forgotten stash of Clark’s belongings. Among a stack of correspondence shoved carelessly into the crate she’d found an unfinished letter from Clark announcing the news that his wifewas expecting a baby.

A baby. A Mason. Heir to the hard-earned family wealth and social position. Amelia Mason’s first and only grandchild. She wanted that baby, and Jared was only too happy to take up the chore himself.

A hired investigator had tracked Clark’s wife through a series of towns and menial jobs until he’d located her here in Crystal Springs. She’d done a poor job of hiding her true identity, simply giving herself a new first name and dropping her married name.

Just why she’d run off with Clark’s son, no one knew.

All the family knew was that they wanted the boy in NewYork with the Masons, where he belonged. Jared had taken over the task himself and made the trip to Crystal Springs.

All he had to do was find the woman. That wouldn’t be hard in a town this size. He silently chastised himself for sleeping all afternoon. Otherwise, he was sure he could have located her before nightfall.

Jared pushed his empty plate away and Dixie caught his attention coming through the swinging door from the kitchen. But it wasn’t she who caused him to sit up in his chair. It was the woman he spotted behind her in the busy kitchen, elbow-deep in a tub of sudsy water.

The woman he’d seen across the street from the stage depot this afternoon.

Steam from the hot water made her face dewy. Tendrils of her dark hair curled around her cheeks. Her arms, exposed clear past her elbows, were smooth and a little pink as she washed dishes. Someone in the kitchen must have said something funny because she was laughing. Her face was lit up, glowing.

Jared wished he could hear her. He wished he was in the kitchen with her to listen to the melody of her voice, see her smile up close…see all of her up close.

Her bibbed apron outlined the swell of her breasts and the sash tied tight around her waist showed the flare of her hips. Sudden, strong desire claimed Jared, producing predictable results.

Dixie stepped in front of him, cutting off his view of the kitchen. She held a slice of berry pie in front of him.

“You look like a man who’d enjoy something hot and juicy,” she said, leaning toward him. “You interested?”

His desire cooled a little. He took the saucer from her hand. “This will do fine,” he told her.

She lingered just long enough to give him a knowing look, then disappeared into the kitchen again. Jared watched, catching another glimpse of the woman at the washtub as the door swung open, savoring the sight of her until it closed again.

Jared finished his pie and coffee and left money on the table. He held back the urge to leave a generous tip, as he usually did, not wanting to call attention to himself. Outside on the boardwalk, he drew in a breath of the cool night air. It was dark now; lanterns burning in the windows down Main Street provided faint light.

Things had picked up at the Wild Cat Saloon. Horses were tied to the hitching posts all along the street. Piano music flowed out along with the drone of voices. Jared considered going inside, having a beer, but decided to get the lay of the town instead.

He walked past the many businesses that lined Main Street, all closed for the night. Above them, on second floors, windows glowed with lantern light. Jared imagined weary merchants and their families having supper around a kitchen table, talking over their day, planning for tomorrow.

Across the street, the sheriff left the jailhouse. He was a big fellow with a pistol on each hip, carrying a sawed-off shotgun. A lot of firepower. Jared thought the lawman might need it. Every cowboy and miner he’d seen walk into the saloon tonight carried a gun.

He dropped his hand to the pistol on his hip. Maybe he’d hire a horse from the livery tomorrow and ride out of town a ways, find a spot to target practice. He wasn’t a stranger to guns, exactly, though he certainly didn’t carry one with him every day back in New York. He’d hunted for deer and wild turkey, on occasion. But he’d never fired a pistol, and he sure as hell had never shot at a human being.

At the edge of town Jared spotted a number of houses lining the street. Trees and picket fences, big porches with swings. Homes where families lived.

The thought of returning to his hotel room seemed less appealing by the minute.

By the time Jared ambled his way back down Main Street, loud, raucous laughter spilled out of the Wild Cat. He stopped across the street, but his gaze wandered down the block to the White Dove Café.

The restaurant was dark now. Had the woman he’d seen washing dishes finished her chores and gone home already? An odd feeling of loss came over Jared as he realized that, if he’d hung around, he could have seen her again.

At that instant a woman stepped out of the alley that ran next to the White Dove. Faint light caught her face.

It was her.

Jared’s breath caught and he took a step toward her just as gunshots rang out. From the corner of his eye he saw several men rush out of the saloon firing pistols.

Jared ran for the woman.

The gunfire registered in Kinsey’s mind just seconds before a man barreled at her from nowhere. He threw his arms around her and pulled her into the alley, pressing her back to the side of the restaurant. He held her tight against his chest, locked in his arms, shielding her, her nose buried against his throat.

Her mind raced. Was she being attacked? Or rescued?

She wasn’t going to linger to find out.

Kinsey struggled against the man but she was held prisoner, sandwiched between the wall of the restaurant and the man’s hard chest and encircling arms. She couldn’t get away, could barely move. All she could manage was to lean her head away far enough to look up at him.

Recognition stilled her. It was the man from the stage depot. The one who’d stolen her attention, made her heart beat fast. The one she’d thought so handsome. And now here he was, holding her.

He gazed down at her, still not releasing her from his firm grasp.

“There’s shooting down at the saloon,” he said softly. “I didn’t want you to get hit.”

Kinsey looked into his eyes, lost for a moment in the effects of the soft light from the street playing about his face. She saw the hard jut of his jaw, and his clean, cotton scent washed over her. Her heart banged harder now, but not from fear. It was from—well, she didn’t know what it was from.

Still holding her in his arms, the man touched his finger to her cheek, spreading a line of fire down her jaw.

“Are you…are you all right?” he asked.

No. No, she wasn’t all right. Her breasts were pressed against his hard chest, and his legs were brushing hers. He held her in a way that sent her heart racing.

“Yes…yes, I’m fine,” she managed to say. “Are you all—”

Jared kissed her. He couldn’t stop himself. As if some unknown force had claimed him, robbed him of his good sense and free will.

His mouth covered hers, soft and moist. Slowly he worked his lips over hers, blending them together.

But it wasn’t some unknown force making him do this, he realized, as a rational thought coasted through his mind. It was this woman. There was something about her….