Jane Bonander (13 page)

“A natural gift, I guess.” Corey’s smile was charming.

Jackson had no doubt that his brother had won many arguments with his smile alone. “I know the separation would be bad, especially for Dawn Twilight. I’ve thought of that. But we can’t make her choose between us. That wouldn’t be fair, either.”

Corey’s examination of him made him uncomfortable. “Well, say something, will you?”

Corey heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Mrs. Libby O’Malley is a handsome woman.”

Jackson snorted. “What’s that got to do with the price of tea in China?”

“Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed.”

Oh, he had, all right. At dinner he could hardly take his eyes off her. Sultry Spanish nights. Warm wine … He shook himself. “Of course I’ve noticed. I’m not blind.”

“And you don’t see any possibilities there?”

“Possibilities for what?”

Corey threw his head back and laughed. “Are you purposely dense, or is that
your
gift?”

“Ah, Corey, get serious. She’d sooner carve me up and use me as mulch in her garden.”

“A little honey goes a long way toward sweetening the tea, brother.”

Hearing the idea spoken aloud made Jackson uncomfortable. “I’m not like you. I’m a plain, straightforward kind of man.”

“You’re as poetic as the next guy, Jackson. You could try courting her.”

Court Libby? He swore again. She’d laugh in his face, then carve out his heart.

A door squeaked open, and the housekeeper stepped into the room. She wore a voluminous multicolored tentlike garment that could have kept the sun or the rain off a small army.

“What you two doin’ in here? Lord, I’m tryin’ to sleep, and all’s I hear is chatterin’ and clatterin’.”

Instantly contrite, Jackson murmured an apology.

She made a tsking sound in her throat. “Can’t you take your business into the parlor an’ leave me in peace?”

“Immediately, Mahalia.” Jackson caught Corey’s gaze and nodded toward the door. Corey gathered his samples and rose.

In the parlor they settled into the chairs that flanked the fireplace. Corey grinned at him.

“Intimidating sort, isn’t she?”

“Hell. Mahalia doesn’t like me.”

“Can you blame her? After all, whether you planned it or not, you’re here to make her boss’s life miserable.”

Jackson glowered into the dwindling fire. “What a helluva mess.”

“I still say there’s a way to save it.”

Jackson dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, pressing hard. “You’re crazier than a bedbug.” Still, the idea had been planted, and try as he might, Jackson couldn’t shake it off.

E
than was playing ball with his two youngest boys when Cleb Hartman rode up. He tossed the ball to the younger of the two, Eddy, who caught it, raised his arm, and grinned at his father.

“Good catch!” Ethan said.

The boy tossed the ball to his brother, who returned it.

Ethan watched as Hartman dismounted. “News?”

Hartman nodded. “Except for contacting the ranchers whose land is involved, it appears to be a done deal.”

Ethan’s stomach convulsed, but he caught his son’s throw and returned it. “When will that be?”

“As soon as all the paperwork’s done, I suppose. You know the government doesn’t move very fast. I’m surprised no one’s contacted the landowners yet.” Hartman gave a casual glance toward Ethan’s boys.

“Then there’s no time to waste. We’ve got to give them at least one more good scare. Do it tonight.”

Hartman mounted his horse. “Tonight it is.”

Ethan didn’t watch him ride away. His thoughts were already elsewhere. After his run-in with Jackson Wolfe at the bank, he kept expecting the man to hound him about the “lost” money.

The sheep ranchers were keeping him busy, fortunately for Ethan. Of course, that was another problem. How long would it be before Wolfe put it all together? He was a worthy adversary, the first Ethan had met, and it wouldn’t take too much for a reasonably intelligent person to figure out what was happening with the sheep ranchers. If that person had any contacts at all, he was probably close to knowing the truth right now.

“Eddy? Would you get your papa’s flask out of his saddlebag?”

Little Eddy hurried to do his father’s wishes. He retrieved the flask and returned to Ethan, who took it and swallowed the milk and whiskey, hoping to settle his stomach.

“You got another bellyache, Pa?”

Ethan ruffled his son’s golden curls. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, boy.” Before long he might not need another swig of the concoction for his stomach. Mateo’s and Bilboa’s land would soon be his to purchase for a song. Then he could sell it to the railroad for a hefty price and get himself out of a passel of money troubles.

His gut rebelled again. If only Jackson Wolfe didn’t get in his way.

Dawn had insisted that Jackson and Libby accompany her to the general store to see a particular bolt of fabric she’d been admiring. Libby knew she wanted a new dress to wear to the party Jackson and Corey had promised her. And Libby knew, too, that she wanted her daughter to look her absolute best. She would work harder on this frock than she’d ever worked in her life. No one was going to suggest that Dawn wasn’t well provided for.

They strolled home with the fabric, a bright yellow calico with sprigs of green ivy, wrapped in a package under Jackson’s arm. They each held one of Dawn’s hands.

Stalemate.

Standoff.

Dawn gazed up at her mother, then looked at her father. “Are you two going to get married?”

Surprised and embarrassed, Libby felt her insides flutter and her face flush. “Certainly not. What made you even think such a thing?” She avoided looking at Jackson, but noted out of the corner of her eye that he appeared to concentrate on something far in the distance.

“Well,” Dawn drawled, “you’re my mother and he’s my father.”

Libby tossed Jackson a pleading glance, but he refused to make eye contact. Typical, she thought. She couldn’t even count on his help with the simple things. How could he possibly handle something serious?

“I can be your mother and not be married to your father, dear. It’s as simple as that.”

Dawn grew quiet. They strolled along in silence, Libby’s brain buzzing. Married to Jackson Wolfe? Hardly something she would have given a thought to. Certainly she was attracted to him, but … marriage?
I think not!

Finally, Dawn said, “But if you two don’t get married, Papa could leave me again.”

Libby raised her eyebrows. Her fear exactly. Even with Jackson’s emotional promises to stay and his obvious love for his daughter, he could go meandering again. She doubted that even Dawn’s pull was strong enough to stop him. And there was no way that she herself would marry a war-loving wanderer—if the chance ever presented itself. However, she kept quiet.

Jackson stopped, turned Dawn toward him and bent to meet her questioning gaze. “Dawn Twilight, I’m not going anywhere that I can’t take you with me.”

Dawn tossed her mother a quick glance. “But … what about Mama? Can she come, too?”

Libby glanced to one side, attempting to focus on the awning that flapped over the millinery shop. Dawn’s innocent questions were exactly what Libby had feared from the moment she learned who Jackson was. Dawn did not understand the situation, and there was no way to explain it to her. Libby curiously awaited Jackson’s answer.

“It’s not as simple as that, Dawn Twilight.”

Quiet again, Dawn suddenly brightened. “It would solve everything if you two would get married.”

A warning of sorts went off inside Libby’s brain, traveling the length of her body, creating uncomfortable yet provocative sensations everywhere. She knew it was up to her to field the question. “People don’t get married for any old reason, dear.”

“Why not? When Janelle Anderson’s mama married Mr. Wilson, Janelle said it was because her mama couldn’t run the ranch by herself. And besides,” she added, “it wouldn’t be for any old reason. It would be for me.”

Libby tried not to squirm with discomfort. “There are those … situations, I guess, when such unions are profitable for both people, but …but our case is different.”

“Different, how?” Dawn probed.

“Well,” Libby answered, trying not to stammer, “you see, I have a business to run. I don’t need to marry someone to help me with it. And …and Mr. Wolfe is…well, he’s …”She threw him a frantic, troubled look, hoping for help.

“Remember, Dawn Twilight,” he said patiently, “I have a family, and they’re waiting for me. Waiting to meet you. Waiting to welcome you as one of their own.”

Libby felt nauseated.

Dawn squeezed her hand. “But … I can’t leave Mama. I … I want to meet my new family, Papa, but … but I want to stay with Mama.”

The relief Libby felt was nearly overshadowed by Jackson’s long, deep sigh.

“Dawn Twilight, we can’t—”

“I won’t leave Mama. I won’t!” She wrenched herself free from both of them and ran on ahead. Libby knew without a doubt that her daughter was in tears.

Libby and Jackson continued on in silence.

“Should one of us go after her?”

Libby glared at him. “And tell her what?”

“I’m, er, meeting a lawyer this afternoon. He … he suggested that you come, too and …”He cleared his throat. “And bring the adoption papers.”

Libby nearly sagged to the ground. “I haven’t heard from the lawyer I’ve contacted yet.”

“Well, at least we can meet, can’t we?”

Bolstering herself, she replied, “I suppose. But just because your lawyer is there and mine isn’t, don’t think that this thing is anywhere near settled.” She wanted to believe the adoption would hold up in any court in the land. She had to believe it, or her world would come to naught.

Like the adversaries they were, they sat across from each other. Beneath the table, Libby gave her handkerchief several anxious twists. Otherwise she tried to show no emotion. She was desperate, she knew that. She even allowed herself to wonder what she would do if she lost this battle for Dawn. The sinking in the pit of her stomach told her it was possible.

She’d checked with the telegraph office on her way over, but there was still no word from the lawyer. Even though Dawn had told them both she wanted to stay with her mother, Libby knew that Jackson was adamant about gaining custody.

As desperate as she was, marriage to a man like Jackson Wolfe wasn’t a consideration. Never mind that he hadn’t asked her. He had a few good qualities—she’d decided that long ago—and granted, she was attracted to him on a baser level, but she couldn’t imagine marrying him.

After all, what was to prevent him from growing bored with the bucolic life and taking off again? In spite of his avowal not to, she didn’t trust the words, because the possibility hadn’t yet arisen.

Oh, why didn’t anyone understand that a man was not a natural parent? A father was not a mother and, in Libby’s mind, could never replace one. They were entirely different entities. She recalled the time, years before, when two young parents were watching their small children splash in the river. The current was strong, and one of the children ventured out too far and was caught up in it. The young mother screamed for the father to fetch the child, but he had told her the child would be all right. The mother, dressed in frock and petticoats, threw herself into the river to save her child. Before the father could reach them, both had drowned.

Oh, Libby thought, remembering the father’s anguish, no one had better tell her that a father could easily replace a mother, especially one who had done nothing with his life but kill people for money. That was not the sort of experience a father should have for raising a gentle daughter.

The door opened and Jackson’s lawyer entered, causing Libby’s head to spin and her stomach to churn. He sat at the end of the table between them.

“Mrs. O’Malley? I’m Daniel Green.”

Libby lifted her gaze, finding an earnest appearing man of middle age. She shoved the adoption papers toward him. “Mr. Green,” she acknowledged with a nod. “These are the papers you asked for. I have contacted an attorney of my own, but unfortunately I haven’t yet heard from him.”

He studied the documents briefly, then looked at her over the rims of his glasses. “As you know,” he began, “Mr. Wolfe has asked me to discover if he could regain custody of his daughter.”

Libby swallowed, hoping none of her turmoil showed. “I’m aware of that, Mr. Green.”

He folded the papers and placed them on the table.

“These appear to be in perfect order,” he announced.

Libby felt a wave of relief. “I knew they would be.”

Jackson’s face was unreadable.

“However …”

Bad news was always prefaced with “however.” Libby had a sinking feeling and was comforted in the knowledge that she was seated. She couldn’t fall any farther.

Daniel Green heaved a sigh. “However, in cases like this, when a natural parent shows up, the court generally finds it prudent to return the child to that natural parent.”

Libby blinked, stemming her angry, anxious, fearful tears. “Prudent? What about … what about feelings and … and love and emotions? Oh, not mine. Don’t for a minute even consider how I’m feeling.”

She shook with fury. “Men are always so logical about things. What place does logic have when it comes to human emotions? Think about Dawn, Mr. Green,” she pleaded, her anguish exposed and as painful as raw flesh. “She’s almost thirteen years old. How can you possibly find it reasonable to tear her away from everything she’s known simply because it’s
prudent?”

The lawyer removed his spectacles and bit on the end of the bow. “I know it seems cruel, Mrs. O’Malley, but whatever you might think about it, it is the law.”

Libby pressed her hands over her mouth, her heart pounding, her stomach threatening to toss up her lunch. “You mean, no matter what I do or how hard I fight, the adoption can be overturned?”

Daniel Green studied her, his gaze sympathetic. “We can always go to court and have a judge decide. Perhaps that would be the best solution.”

Her panic was raw. “But … but Mr. Wolfe is an itinerant and thoughtless parent,” she said accusingly, sensing defeat but unwilling to give up. “Surely you can see that. He sent no word for the past twelve years. What kind of concern is that? Oh, Mr. Green, if you only knew under what circumstances I found her—”

“I’ve been informed, Mrs. O’Malley.”

Her mouth worked frantically. “You … you have?”

With a nod, he stood up and gathered his papers, leaving Libby’s adoption papers on the table. “You’ve done an exemplary job of raising the child, Mrs. O’Malley. Mr. Wolfe admits to that and more. However, you should know that he didn’t reject his daughter. He set out with good intentions, placing her in the care of someone he firmly believed in. He sent money regularly for her care, unaware that the money wasn’t going where it was supposed to.”

Libby had heard all of this before. To her, it didn’t matter. All of Jackson’s good intentions did nothing
to
dissolve the ferocious knot in her stomach. “Then, you’re saying that the only way to resolve this is to go to court?”

“I’m afraid so. Please let me know your decision.” He bade them a good day, and left them alone.

Libby’s gaze swung to Jackson. “A court battle. Exactly the sort of thing I’d hoped we could avoid.”

“It’s for you, Libby, not me. I don’t have to establish proof, but I can,” he murmured from across the table. “What’s more important is that I have proof that she’s my daughter. That’s all I need.”

There was pity in his eyes, God, how she hated that look from anyone! “You heard Dawn this morning. She … she said she wouldn’t leave me.”

“I know,” he answered. “And I’ve thought a lot about that.” He drove his fingers through his hair, then muttered something under his breath.

“Well? I hope you’ve decided she’d be better off with me,” Libby continued. “Naturally I would allow you to visit often, and I’m sure she would want to know your family. I have no problem with letting her visit them as well. But above all, I don’t want her to be put into the position of having to choose between us.” She was babbling, she knew. It kept her from taking a swing at him.

There was just one more thing she had to ask. “If you do decide to fight me and she refuses to go with you, will you force her?”

“How can you even ask such a question?” His voice was soft with disbelieving anger.

“That question keeps swimming through my head, Jackson. You might think I’m selfish, but truly, I’m concerned for Dawn, and how she will react to all of this.” Libby took a deep breath, hoping to slow the pounding of her pulse.

Fearful of his silence, she finally said, “Surely in all of your brilliance, you have a solution.”