Read Sterling's Way (Lawmen & Outlaws) for Free Online Page A

she would be turned away. The man stared into her eyes for what felt like forever before his handlebar moustache twitched. A smile! He held up his forefinger, and then turned to the door. One knock gained his entrance. He went inside the office, closing the door behind him.
    When the man emerged, he held the door open wide. “Mr. Brown is available, miss.”
    Kristen swept through the doorway, nodding her thanks to the man as she passed him. But when she spotted the man whose office she entered, she stopped in her tracks.
    The bank owner was younger than Kristen expected. In her mind, she envisioned a man of middle years, maybe balding and with a paunch. Instead, the fellow who rose and came around the massive oak desk in the center of the office looked to be in his early thirties. In addition, where she imagined straining seams and copious jowls, there were even more surprises. The man extending his hand in greeting was clad in denim, and looked so lean, muscular and suntanned that it was apparent he did not spend all of his time behind a desk.
    “To what do I owe the pleasure of such a lovely visitor?”
    There had to be some mistake. This could not be the man with whom she had corresponded. He was too cowboy-ish to be a banking magnate. How on earth could someone whose spurs jangled when he walked own most of the town?
    “Are you Mr. Brown?” Kristen realized she had not moved an inch, so she took a few steps into the room. “Mr. Randall Brown?”
    He came closer. “Randall Brown, at your service. And you are?”
    Manners. Where had hers gone?
    Kristen placed her right hand in Mr. Brown’s and flashed a conciliatory smile. She certainly was making a mess of this employment opportunity!
    “I am Kristen Marsh. We corresponded, via telegraph, regarding my settling in Brown’s Point. This, if I may add, is a lovely little town.”
    He acknowledged the compliment with a nod as he led her to a brown leather chair. Mr. Brown waited while Kristen sat before heading around the desk and settling himself in an identical chair. It seemed odd that he make his visitors as comfortable as he was, but then there had been many unusual points to ponder on this westward journey.
    “Thank you, Miss Marsh. That’s very kind of you to say.”
    By the way he spoke, it was apparent that Randall Brown had not been educated in any frontier schoolhouse. His enunciation was as accurate as any Bostonian attorney’s and his deportment showed he had been taught well. His overt assessment of her person was neither insulting nor indelicate.
    Kristen suffered his scrutiny in silence. She deliberately kept her features carefully arranged to give the impression she was not unnerved by his appraisal. In truth, she was grateful he could not feel the herd of butterflies galloping in her midsection. They were a dead giveaway regarding the importance of this interview, and the necessity of her securing the teaching position.
    The banker finally broke the silence. “If memory suits me, you’re from back east, aren’t you?”
    “I am, sir.”
    A chuckle filled the air. He sat forward, put his elbows on the desktop and threaded his fingers together. The nails were neatly filed and his hands scrubbed. So, even though he looked like a cowboy he cleaned up like a gentleman.
    “Please, call me Randall. Every time I hear someone—especially someone as fetching as you are—call me by my formal name I expect to see my father walk through the door.”
    His compliment fitted so easily into the conversation that Kristen merely smiled an acknowledgement. He was kind, but she needed more than someone to blow sunshine up her dress. What she needed was a job—and quickly!
    “Randall, then. Your memory serves you well; I am from back east. But now I’m here, and hopeful the position we discussed is still available.”
    The banker was not prepared to discuss teaching, apparently, because he steered her back to her history.
    “And you traveled all this way on