“The wind is cold on these old bones, Mr. Schaeffer. Perhaps I could come inside?”
He could see the young man debating closing the door in his face. What do you see, boy? An old, worthless backwoodsman? Someone far beneath your notice?
“Whatever you’re selling, I don’t need it,” Schaeffer said. Joseph moved his foot against the door and stopped its forward motion. He continued to smile at the young man until Schaeffer dropped his hand from the doorknob.
“I’m not selling anything, Mr, Schaeffer. I can see a man such as yourself needs very little in the way of worldly goods. It’s something else you want, is it not?”
Schaeffer stared at him as if he were crazy. But so had many people. All those who didn’t understand.
But I understand you, Schaeffer. I know what you want, because your arrogance makes you announce your intentions to the world.
“You’ve come to town for the woman. Alexandra Warrington.”
Schaeffer blinked, taken aback. “You don’t know anything about my business here.”
Joseph chuckled softly. “I know as much as anyone in town. What you’ve said yourself to anyone who will listen—that you had important news for the woman. A woman you once knew well, whom you’ve come a long way to find.”
“So?”
“And you had more in mind than merely delivering your news. You went courting, did you not, Mr. Schaeffer? And your courting did not go as well as you planned.”
Schaeffer eyed him, his expression caught between outrage and suspicion.
“How do you know all that?”
“I have eyes. And ears,” Joseph said. “Anyone will tell you that Old Man Arnoux knows everything.” And I was there, outside the cabin, when you stormed out Alexandra Warrington’s door, looking ready to commit murder. He shrugged. “News spreads quickly in a small town. But perhaps you’re not overly familiar with small towns, Mr. Schaeffer.”
The young man all but shuddered. A man used to fine things, Schaeffer, and unaccustomed to meeting any resistance to his plans.
“You do want the woman, Mr. Schaeffer. That is why you’re here, isn’t it?”
He’d read his man well. For a moment Schaeffer hovered between slamming the door and opening it wider. In the end his fundamental greed won out.
“What if it is?” he said. “What does that have to do with you?”
Joseph took a step forward and Schaeffer fell back, allowing him just enough grudging space to enter the room.
“You see, Mr. Schaeffer, I know how matters may have become complicated for you. I know about the man who is staying with Miss Warrington.” He paused. “The man who would be your rival.”
Schaeffer choked on a laugh, but Joseph saw the precise moment when the young man became interested. “Rival?” he echoed incredulously. “That big, stupid redneck I saw her with?”
Ah. Joseph shook his head mentally. You are as guilty as I was, boy, of underestimating your enemy.
“She said he was just a fellow researcher. A friend,” Schaeffer said, striding across the room. He jerked out one of the two chairs by the small table and sat down, legs sprawled. “He doesn’t mean anything to her.”
“Are you certain of that, Mr. Schaeffer? The two of them alone in that cabin…”
“Of course I’m certain. I know Alexandra. She’d never—” He broke off, frowning. “What’s the point of all this? Why are you here?”
“To help you achieve your goal.”
Schaeffer was silent, his blue eyes calculating. You want more than just the woman, boy, Joseph thought, but I don’t care what it is. As long as you do what I need you to do…
“I don’t need your help, old—” He cut himself off, though without any trace of embarrassment. “I can handle Alexandra and this ‘friend’ of hers without any trouble.”
“Your confidence is admirable,” Joseph said. “But I know more about Kieran Holt than you do, more than your Miss Warrington does.”
Schaeffer sat up straight in his chair. “What do you know about him?” he demanded.
Joseph studied the handsome, petulant face. Even your confidence can be shaken. “I know he is dangerous. Possibly mad.”
With a sharp movement Schaeffer rose, crossed the room again, and turned. “He might be stupid and strange, but crazy?”