Jane Bonander (16 page)

She swallowed, her heart in her throat and her pulse hovering somewhere between her navel and her knees.
“This isn’t one bit proper.” She tried to sound indignant. She failed.

“God.” His voice was a husky rumble, and his gaze moved over her slowly and thoroughly. “Look at you.” He picked up one of her long, loopy curls and raised it to his face, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Jackson, please. You’re embarrassing me. I’m ….”Belatedly she crossed her arms over her breasts. “This isn’t proper, and I’m not decent.”

“Propriety and decency belong in stuffy drawing rooms, Libby. What we have between us is hot and intense, and I’m not going to let you forget it.” All the while he spoke, his hands traveled up and down her arms, making her quiver.

He placed her hands on his shoulders, then turned her right arm to expose the sensitive inner surface, and ran his mouth from the elbow to beneath her shoulder.

She shuddered at the sensation, closing her eyes and forcing herself not to melt against him. “I’m still not ready to marry you, and … and if you think that by constantly assaulting me with your … your …”

His eyes twinkled, and he drew her close, so close she could feel him growing behind his fly. “My … what?”

She swallowed. “You act like a rutting ass.” She tried to sound incensed, but knew she failed, for his hands were on her hips and he was slowly drawing her back and forth across the front of his jeans.

“I know, but I’m good at it, don’t you agree?”

She raised her head to scold him, which she instantly realized was a mistake, for his mouth came down on hers, clamping hard. The kiss was one of possession, and Libby had no strength or desire to resist.

He broke the embrace, stepping swiftly to the door. “Sooner or later you’re going to give in, Liberty O’Malley.”

Feigning anger, she answered, “Not before I fight you with every breath I take.”

His smile was devastating. “If the little overture in the kitchen is any indication of our future together, Libby girl, I’m going to enjoy the struggle.” Returning briefly, he kissed her hard on the mouth, and before she could fight him, he was gone.

On shaky legs she crossed to the dry sink and studied her reflection in the mirror. Her lips felt swollen; there was high color in her cheeks. And that telltale pulse bounded relentlessly behind the flesh at her throat.

She knew she was a strong woman. Unfortunately, she sensed that the one thing that could break down her defenses was her own reaction to this incredibly handsome, virile, powerful … annoying man.

Burl Bellamy spat a stream of tobacco into the spittoon, briefly taking his eyes off Corey’s work while his brother snoozed in his chair. “So,” he said, shoving the plug against his cheek with his tongue, “someone pays ya to draw fancy pictures, huh?”

Corey carefully sketched the lobes of the big-leaf maple. “They sure do,” he answered. He was eager for his niece to get home from school. He had a surprise for her; that was why he was working outside, on the porch.

Burl cackled. “Dang, now I’ve heard it all. Can’t ’magine why anyone would pay a body fer such work.”

Corey smiled. “No, I don’t imagine you could.”

Bert snorted and awakened. He sat up straight, blinking his rheumy eyes at the other two. “Cain’t you two talk a bit quieter? How’s a body to get a nap with such racket?”

Burl chortled. “By dang, Bert, ya woke yerself up.”

Bert scowled, his mouth working and his flabby jowl wagging like a cock’s wattle.

The Bellamy boys were amusing, Corey would give them that. And it didn’t matter how many times they found him drawing and writing, they repeated their expressions of disbelief that anyone would pay him for it.

Lifting his head, he saw Dawn Twilight approaching, her schoolbooks under her arm. “Have a good day?”

She gave him a brilliant smile. “For a change. it’s the first time in days that bully Willie Frost hasn’t chased me.”

Corey jumped to her defense. “Do you want me to take care of that hooligan?” At her giggle, Corey added, amazed at her good humor, “I mean it, Dawn. I’ll thrash the rascal with a hickory whip.”

“You don’t have to. Chloe Ann has already taken care of that part.”

Corey raised his eyebrows. “She takes a stick to him?”

“Well, only his knuckles. And she uses a ruler. I don’t think she really likes doing even that much, but Willy is such a bully that nothing else seems to work.”

He could hardly believe that shy, delicate little thing could stand up to schoolhouse bullies.

“Well, if I can’t jump to your defense, at least let me give you a present.” He pulled the leather-bound journal from his inside coat pocket and handed it to her.

Her eyes big, Dawn slowly took it, running her fingers over the cover. “What’s this for?”

“Look inside,” he instructed, anxious to see her reaction.

Dawn dropped her schoolbooks on the step and opened the journal, her expression turning puzzled. “There’s nothing on the pages.”

“It’s a journal, or a diary. And it’s only blank because you haven’t written in it yet.”

She smiled, biting down on her bottom lip. “Oh, Uncle Corey. A journal, for me? How did you know I liked to write?”

“Oh,” he answered, leaning into his chair, “I have my spies.”

“You mean Papa and Mama.” She leafed through the blank pages, her expression rapt. “I must take after you. I want to be a writer someday, too, but I want to write stories about people I know.”

Corey jerked his head toward the Bellamy boys, who were both snoozing and snoring. “You could start with those two characters.”

She giggled again, then touched his arm. “Thank you so much, Uncle Corey. I love my present.”

He glanced at her hand on his arm. “Is that all I get?”

With a happy sigh, she flung herself into his arms. “I’m so lucky,” she murmured against his neck.

Corey hugged her, hoping she was right. Oh, she was a lucky little girl, but if Libby and Jackson didn’t get together, how lucky would she feel if she was taken away from her mother?

Jackson had left his mount at the livery, requesting that he be reshod. As he walked to the boardinghouse, he found his thoughts absorbed with images of Libby. God, what a life they could have together, if only she’d agree to marry him. Their union might not be based on love, but it sure as hell would be filled with passion.

But … a virgin? He couldn’t get over his surprise. Shock, really. And her reaction … He’d slept with enough women to know when they were faking and when they weren’t. Libby definitely hadn’t been faking. Even now he felt the bite of desire at the thought of bedding her again.

He mouthed a curse. Of course, he’d promised her that if she married him, he wouldn’t bed her without her consent. He wondered if what they’d done the night before would make her more amenable to the whole idea of marriage or merely strengthen her resolve against it.

She’d been wound up as tight as a pocket watch before breakfast. But once she loosened up, she was delicious. Tussling with him, laughing when she threw flour in his face, letting loose when he attempted to tickle her … Lord Almighty, what a woman she was. How could any man married to her not take her to his bed? Who was this Sean O’Malley, anyway, and why hadn’t he touched her?

He continued to be deep in thought as he approached the porch.

“Papa!”

Smiling at his daughter, he held out his arms for her. She scrambled down the steps and went into his embrace. “Oh, Papa, look what Uncle Corey gave me.” She stepped away and held out the book. “It’s a journal, Papa. I can start writing all my thoughts and stories down in this book. Isn’t that wonderful?”

He caught Corey’s gaze, and they winked at each other. “Leave it to your uncle to think of a wise gift for such a talented girl.”

She expelled a satisfied sigh. “Everything’s so perfect. The only thing that would make it better would be if you and Mama got married.”

Again Jackson’s gaze met his brother’s. Corey gave him a quirky smile and wiggled his tawny eyebrows.

Jackson smoothed his hand over his daughter’s thick braid. He wanted to marry Libby, and Dawn Twilight wanted it, too. What would it take to convince the woman that it was the only thing to do?

T
he following morning Libby was informed that some-one else from Jackson’s family had arrived at the jail. Despite her reluctance to appear to have done anything special in order to make a good impression, she bustled around the rooming house, dusting, straightening, and making sure Mahalia’s evening meal wasn’t as hot as a Cajun summer. She had two vacant rooms, which she aired out and provided with fresh linens, in case whoever had arrived hadn’t made arrangements to stay anywhere else.

And for some inane reason, as afternoon waned and the dinner hour approached, she felt the need to primp. She rushed to her room, took a quick bath, and changed into one of her nicest frocks. She supervised Dawn’s dressing as well.

As they waited for Jackson’s return, Dawn displayed the nervous fidgets that Libby felt but tried to hide.

“Do I look all right, Mama?”

The new yellow frock with the ivy sprigs made Dawn’s skin look like polished sand, and her long, freshly braided hair gleamed with health.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” Libby answered, straightening the bright green ribbon at her daughter’s waist.

“You look pretty too, Mama. You hardly ever wear that dress.”

That was true. The dusty rose lawn was one of her best. “Well, I want to make a good impression, too.”

Dawn twirled away. “Did you know that Papa has an Indian name?”

“No, I didn’t.” But she wasn’t surprised.

“When he was little and was rescued by the Indians, Papa said that at first he was very bel … bel …”

“Belligerent?” Libby suggested.

“Yeah, belligerent. The Indians knew he was scared, but he acted tough, like a little warrior brave. So they called him Warrior Heart.

“Did you know that his real mama was killed?”

Libby digested this, seeing the similarities in Dawn’s and Jackson’s lives. It was no wonder he was so obsessed with regaining custody. She suddenly felt a bite of pity for a little boy who must have been so very frightened at having his world destroyed.

Dawn studied her. “Are you gonna marry Papa?”

Libby’s stomach dropped. “I … I don’t know.”

“Papa says he wants you to.”

Interested, Libby answered, “Oh, he does, does he?”

Nodding, Dawn announced, “Then we’ll be a real family. I’m gonna write a story about it, Mama. Everything will be
perfect.”

Libby stifled a weary, anxious sigh. Perfect, indeed. For Jackson and for her daughter, but certainly not for her. The idea had begun to grow on her, however. She knew that living with Jackson Wolfe wouldn’t be dull, and she couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him. On top of that, he made her laugh. Who could resist a man who could make her shake off her inhibitions and squeal with glee? And, of course, there was that bedroom incident .…

A commotion on the porch and the sound of Jackson’s mellow baritone caused her already nervous stomach to lurch again.

“We can’t begin to thank you for putting us up on such short notice,” Susannah Wolfe acknowledged.

“I’m glad I had the room,” Libby answered graciously.

Mrs. Wolfe hugged Dawn and kissed her temple. “I was thrilled to discover I had a granddaughter, and such a pretty one at that.”

Jackson’s stepmother sat on the settee in the parlor, Dawn’s hand clasped between both of hers. Dawn gazed up at her in awe. Again, as when she’d met Jackson’s brother, she’d become a mute.

Libby hid her hands in the folds of her skirt and clenched them into fists. Susannah Wolfe was a beautiful woman. Her hair, a rich mahogany, was youthfully lustrous. Her skin bore a smattering of freckles
,
and she looked years younger than she probably was. She, like Libby, was full-bosomed, and Libby decided that if she could look that good when she got to be Susannah’s age, she’d be elated. Mrs. Wolfe’s brown eyes were kind, and her smile sincere.

Though Libby tried to act normal, she continued to feel ill. “Dawn has talked of nothing but Jackson’s family since he told her who he was.” She forced a smile at her daughter, then returned her gaze to Susannah Wolfe. “She isn’t a mute, you know. Actually, this is only the second time in her life I’ve noticed that the cat had her tongue.”

Dawn flushed beneath her dusky skin and looked at her lap. “Oh, Mama …”

Katie, Jackson’s youngest sister, a pretty little blonde of perhaps fourteen, sat on the other side of Dawn. “Mama says I’m Dawn Twilight’s auntie. It seems funny because we’re almost the same age.”

The girls exchanged shy grins, and Libby experienced a heaviness that weighed on her heart.

“And I’m happy to know that she’s living so close to us, because my older sister, Mandy, is away at school,” Katie informed Libby.

“It will be nice for Dawn, too,” Libby commented. This entire situation was fine and dandy with everyone but her.

Her back was to the door, but she knew immediately the moment Jackson entered, for the faces of the other three lit up like candles on a Christmas tree.

Susannah, beaming with love and pride, lifted her hand toward her son. “I’ve been waiting twelve years to touch that face again.”

Jackson took his stepmother’s hand and kissed it, then allowed her to caress his features.

Libby continued to feel ill.

He went behind his mother, resting his hands on her shoulders. She imprisoned one between hers, occasionally touching it with her cheek.

The scene caused a hollowness in Libby’s stomach.

“Dawn Twilight,” Jackson murmured, “why don’t you take Katie to your room? I’m sure Mumser is anxious to play.”

Dawn flashed her mother a quick look, and when Libby smiled, she took Katie’s hand and they left the room, Dawn chattering about the dog, the cat, and the time they started to fight on her bed.

After the girls were gone, the silence in the room was stifling. Libby had nothing to say, but her mind was rushing like a freight train barreling along a downhill track.

Susannah broke the quiet. “You’ve done a wonderful job with her, Mrs. O’Malley. Jackson told me where you found her, and, oh, my,” she whispered, her free hand on her breast, “I don’t know what would have happened had it not been for you.”

To Libby’s ears it sounded like “Thank you very much; we’ll take over now,” but she held her tongue. “Dawn’s an easy child to care for, Mrs. Wolfe. She’s bright and loving. I haven’t done more than any mother would do.” They had to know her position. She wasn’t about to hand over her daughter without a fight.

“Please, I’ll call you Libby if you’ll call me Susannah.”

Libby forced her smile not to waver. Oh, if only the woman weren’t so nice! “Of course.”

Jackson cleared his throat, then glanced at the chime clock on the mantel. “It’s almost eight. Where are Corey and Dad?”

Susannah patted her son’s hand. “They’ll be along. You’ve become fretful, dear. Of all my children, you were always the one with the most patience.” She turned and smiled up at Jackson, who winked at her and squeezed her shoulder.

“I have patience when it suits me,” he answered, his knowing gaze resting on Libby.

Susannah gazed at her as well, and Libby had the uncomfortable feeling that everyone knew her dilemma. As for the impending reunion between father and son, Libby wasn’t sure she could sit and watch it. The first one, between Jackson and his stepmother, had been hard enough. In fact, it had been heart-wrenching. Susannah Wolfe had clung to her son, sobbing with joy. Libby’s throat had clenched up, and she’d had to rush from the room or she’d have been in tears, too.

But Libby’s pain came from the knowledge that this family had so much more to offer Dawn than she had.

Hearing footsteps on the porch, Libby rose and excused herself, anxious to get away.

She met Jackson’s father and brother in the entry.

“Libby! This is my father, Nathan Wolfe,” Corey said. “Dad, this is Liberty O’Malley, the woman who rescued your granddaughter.”

Unsure of what to expect, Libby extended her hand, only to be drawn into a gentle hug by the bear of a man.

Nathan Wolfe pulled away and looked down at her, his eyes shiny with emotion. He was an older version of his son, but Libby sensed that Jackson was a handsomer man than his father had been. Even so, it took nothing away from Nathan’s magnetism.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “The minute I heard, I wanted to take my son out behind the barn and tan his hide, but from what I’m told, he’s now bigger than I am.”

Corey laughed. “Don’t listen to him, Libby. We got punished, all right, but he never laid a hand on us.”

How different from her own childhood, she thought, swallowing a wistful sigh. Even now she could almost feel the sting of her father’s belt on her thighs.

She attempted a smile. “The … others are in the parlor, Corey.”

He looped his arm through hers. “You’re going to join us, aren’t you?”

Flustered, she began to stammer. “Oh, I-I don’t think so. I’ll … bring you some pie and coffee, though.”

“Point me to the parlor, son. I’m anxious to lay my eyes on your wayward older brother.”

They left her in the entry. She turned down the wall lamp and was going into the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee when she heard the girls’ voices on the stairs. From the darkened doorway, she watched the scene.

“Papa!”

“Katie! I’ve missed you, girl. Come give your papa a hug.”

Katie Wolfe offered a girlish giggle. “I saw you yesterday morning, Papa.” She clattered down the stairs.

“That’s too long, my girl, too long.” He swung his daughter into his arms and gave her a noisy kiss.

Katie squealed. “Your beard, Papa! You’re giving me whisker burn!”

Dawn stood at the top of the stairs, her eyes as big and round as black buttons. Libby bit her lower lip, then pressed her fingers to her mouth. Dawn wore her emotions on her sleeve, and Libby knew that if Nathan Wolfe was reticent in any way, it would break her daughter’s heart.

The bear of a man put his daughter on the floor and gazed at the landing. “And who is this beautiful creature?”

“It’s Dawn Twilight, Papa.”

Libby couldn’t see his face, but she could imagine his expression. Dawn stood, stiff with anxiety, and graced him with a wavering smile.

“Come down here, granddaughter, and give your grandpapa a hug,” Nathan ordered, his voice gentle and his arms outstretched.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Dawn raced down the steps and flew into the man’s arms, pressing her face against his neck.

Her fists against her mouth, Libby turned and made her way into the dark kitchen. She stumbled to a chair and slumped into it. Her stomach churned. She hadn’t felt so ill since she’d had the grippe.

She forced herself to stay calm, knowing it would be one of the most difficult things she’d ever have to do. A question kept running through her head: how could she possibly compete with a family like Jackson’s? Over time, there would be nothing to prevent Dawn from making the choice to live with Jackson on her own. How much more exciting for her to be part of a large, noisy, happy family than to live in a rooming house with her mother, a schoolmistress, and two crazy old coots who had been around longer than dirt.

Long after the others had gone to bed, Jackson and his father sat by the fire, talking quietly. It felt good, this peace of mind. It felt right.

“So what are your plans?” Nathan asked.

Jackson poured his father another shot of brandy but took none for himself. “I’m not sure. A few things are going on around here that, as sheriff, I have to clean up. A couple of ranchers have been losing their sheep to poison and rimrocking.”

“Could cattlemen be behind it?”

Jackson shook his head. “I don’t think so. Even the ranchers themselves don’t think so.”

Nathan scratched his stubbled jaw. “Where is the sheepmen’s land?”

“Both men own grazing land north of here. One spreads east to the Nevada border, the other west.”

“You know,” Nathan began, “I had lunch with the governor’s brother a few weeks ago, and he implied that they’re going to build a railroad line, starting at Fort Redding.”

Interested, Jackson perked up. “From Fort Redding to where?”

“I’m not sure,” his father answered. “It hasn’t been announced, as far as I know.”

“Isn’t that interesting. What do you suppose would happen around here if that line were to come through Thief River?”

“I’d say anyone with land along the track site would become very wealthy.” Nathan lifted an eyebrow at his son. “Would those sheep ranchers’ land happen to be in the way?”

Jackson smirked. “Right smack dab.”

Nathan settled deeper into the overstuffed chair. “So now you have a motive. Any suspects?”

“I’m not sure.” He studied his father. “Do you want to take a trip to the bank with me in the morning?”

Nathan shrugged. “Sure. Why?”

Not ready to voice his jumbled thoughts about the sheepmen, Jackson instead told his father about the disappearance of Dawn Twilight’s trust fund, and his suspicions about who was responsible.

“Flicker Feather was killed by vigilantes. In order to put that whole part of my life to rest, I have to find out who they were. But that’ll have to come after I’ve cleared up the problem with the sheepmen. I can’t let it rest, though, Dad. For years I felt responsible for her death.”

Nathan heaved a dark sigh and rubbed his face with his hands. “God, but I wish we’d settled things all those years ago. If we both hadn’t been so stubborn, you and Flicker Feather would have been safe with us. And we would have had the joy of watching your daughter grow up.”

Jackson nodded. “I was stubborn and muleheaded. I also felt extremely sorry for myself.” He gave his father a small grin. “Maybe I just wanted to drown myself in pity. Hell, telling you about Flicker Feather and Dawn Twilight would have solved my problems. I honestly think I wanted my grief hanging around my neck like a damned albatross.”

His father studied him, a tenderness in his eyes. “We missed so much time together.”

Jackson grinned confidently. “I’m glad we get a chance to make up for it.”

“I am too,” Nathan growled through his smile. “And what will you do when everything is cleared up?”