Jane Bonander (8 page)

“And you’re saying that our white history is a lie?”

“Graphically colored in favor of the Whites. No mention is made of the horrors the Indians suffered when our ancestors trampled them and wrested away their land.”

At the harshness of his statement, Libby flinched. “And you know the whole truth, is that it? You and no one else?” She forced a cynical laugh. “You’ll do anything to shift the guilt, won’t you?”

“I have no guilt.”

The haunted look in his eyes told Libby otherwise. “I’d like to believe that, for it would make you even less worthy than you already are, but I don’t.”

He yanked his jacket off the chair and shrugged into it. “I don’t give a damn what you believe. She’s my daughter, and I’m going to claim her.”

Reflexively, Libby grabbed his arm again.

His eyes revealed a dispirited look that took the simmering edge off Libby’s anger.

This constant battling would get them nowhere. She was becoming as callous about Dawn’s future as he, and it had to stop. As much as she hated to, she had to use another tactic. “Please,” she pleaded softly. “If I need time to adjust to this, think about Dawn. And,” she added, feeling the hardness of his muscled arm beneath his sleeve, “let me be there when you tell her.”

“I’ll consider it.” He whistled for the dog, who jumped into his arms, then both were gone.

Libby stood in his room, feeling an ache so deep that it went into her bones. As far as she could determine, the conflict over custody could have no favorable ending.

Ethan fumbled for a cigarette as he approached the abandoned shed. His palms were sweaty and he felt like shit. If he kept losing thousands at his monthly poker games in Eureka, as he had been doing over the past six months, he would run out of funds. Hell, he’d gone through his own money a long time ago. What he was doing now, and had been for years, was clear-cut embezzlement.

So far, he’d gotten away with it. So far. Ethan winced and pressed his fist against his stomach. Christ
,
it burned like the devil. The cramping had become worse lately, and none of his old remedies worked anymore. He’d had enough plain milk to choke a calf, and if he ever saw another cup of wintergreen tea, he was afraid he’d vomit.

He pulled the flask from his inside coat pocket, removed the cap, and took a long pull on the contents. Milk and whiskey. A decent compromise. It had become the only thing he could tolerate when his stomach began to rebel.

Tossing a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t been followed, he stepped to the door of the shed, opened it, and hurried inside. Cleb Hartman, one of his poker partners, sat at the battered table, smoking a cigar. Axel Worth, Vern’s deputy, stood beside the cold, dead fireplace.

“ ’Bout time you got here.” Axel fidgeted with his gun belt.

“I had some business to take care of.” Ethan took a seat across from Hartman. “So what have you found out?”

Cleb clamped the cigar between His teeth, preparing to talk around it. “It’s pretty damned certain they’re going to put in a railroad line between Thief River and Fort Redding.”

For the first time in a week, Ethan felt the knots in his stomach relax. “And the ranchland between here and there is truly paved with gold.”

Cleb huffed a laugh, “In a manner of speaking.”

“We got a new sheriff, Ethan.” Axel strolled to the table and took a seat.

Ethan felt a frisson of fear
,
but dismissed it. “So what’s that got to do with me, kid?”

“He ain’t old and he ain’t laid up. He’s already been out to Mateo’s sniffing around.” Axel swore. “He could even tell that one of our mounts was a mare by the way she took a piss.”

Ethan tapped his index finger against the scarred table-top. His plan had begun, and he didn’t want anything to stand in the way, especially not a new lawman.

Danel Mateo was close to caving in, and he was one of the two sheep ranchers whose land Ethan coveted. Whose land lay between Thief River and Fort Redding. Whose land would be available for a song after Mateo fled, in fear of his life, soon followed by Ander Bilboa and his tow-headed brood. Since Ethan held the mortgages, both ranches would be his. Then he could sell the land to the railroad for a sweet, sweet price.

Jackson refused to let Dawn Twilight’s adoption ruin his plans. Hell, he wasn’t even sure it was legal, especially if a blood parent showed up. He had no doubt that being her natural father superseded an adoption by a stranger. And a widow woman at that.

Who was he kidding? Sure, he was still confident he could get Dawn Twilight back, but Libby O’Malley was no ordinary woman. She was far more complex than he’d imagined, and he appreciated that.
That
was what rankled. She wasn’t some narrow-minded, dried-up, Bible-thumping prune. She was warm and loving, generous and wise. She was a damned good mother, he’d seen that from the very first day.

It changed nothing. He was sorry she’d be hurt in all this, but that couldn’t be helped. His daughter needed him. Or maybe, he thought, his heart racing, he needed his daughter.

He planned to teach Dawn Twilight about her tribe. Tell her about her sweet, lovely mother. About the beautiful and peaceful ways of the Indian, not to mention their customs and religion. Then she could choose. At least, armed with information about her heritage, she’d have that choice and wouldn’t have to live a white life if she didn’t want to.

But he knew she probably would. And that was all right too. At least she’d know the other part of her. If he didn’t teach her, no one would. They sure as hell didn’t teach that kind of thing at a white school.

He was itching to tell her. And although he hadn’t come out and told Libby he’d wait, he would. If he was nothing else, he was a man who kept his word.

As he rode toward the jail, his thoughts shifted to Libby O’Malley once again. A jumble of emotions stampeded through him, for until now he hadn’t given much thought to the concept of mother love, that fierce, protective love of a woman for a child, the kind of love that eclipsed everything else, even a mother’s own needs.

Did Libby have it? Did she understand that by telling Dawn Twilight the truth, she would lose her?

Jackson would not have placed a sure bet on anything, but if he’d had to take a wild guess, he’d have bet Libby O’Malley’s mother love was as strong as any woman’s. She considered Dawn Twilight hers in every way.

He also sloughed off the idea of the adoption, certain that as Dawn Twilight’s natural father, he could get her back without a fight—or with one, if it came to that.

Libby felt like a criminal hiding in the alley across from the jail, but she wanted to talk to Sheriff Roberts and hoped Jackson would leave so she could. She was relieved when he finally went on an errand, accompanied by Deputy Worth. She slipped inside; Vern Roberts was there, nursing his bad knee with a bottle of whiskey.

He gave her a sheepish grin. “It’s medicinal.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Then shouldn’t it go on your knee, and not in your stomach?”

“Don’t start with me, Libby. I never much pictured you as the nagging wife type.”

Libby allowed a smile. “That’s a compliment, I guess, and I wasn’t going to say anything until you thought you had to justify your actions.”

“No, but you’d have thought it, anyway.”

Her smile widened. “So how
is
the knee coming along?” She studied it through his pant leg, noting it was still swollen.

“Ah, hell. I don’t think it’ll ever be good as new again. The doc tells me I’m too old to even think that it will be. I’ll prob’ly have to rely on a cane for the rest of my life.” He scrutinized her. “What’s on your mind, Libby?”

She perched on the chair beside him. “What do you know about the law?”

He snorted a laugh. “I’m a lawman, ain’t I?”

“But do you know anything about adoptions?”

“Ah,” he said with a nod of understanding. “Little Dawn. It ain’t no secret you adopted her, Libby. What’s the problem?”

She studied him for a long, quiet moment. “Did Jackson Wolfe tell you he’s Dawn’s natural father?”

Vein’s expression was incredulous. “Naw. He ain’t.”

“He is. At least he claims to be.”

“Well, I’ll be a dad-burned monkey’s uncle…”

“What I want to know is this: could he have the adoption overturned?” She didn’t want to weigh her words with her emotions, so she swallowed a comment about Jackson being an unfit, undeserving parent.

Vern scraped his fingers across his jaw. “Guess you’d have to get legal advice, Libby. And since the closest law firm is in Sacramento, that’s where you’d have to find help.”

She let out a whoosh of air and sagged into the chair. “That’s what I was afraid of. The attorney who drew up the adoption papers moved east, and I have no idea how to reach him.”

“Well, I guess you could wire just about any lawyer and get the information you want. By the way, did you know Jackson’s got family hereabouts?”

Libby’s stomach dropped. “Family? Where?”

“Up near the state line. His pa owns a big spread near Broken Jaw. Raises cattle, sheep, and horses.”

So, she thought, her stomach continuing to pitch and toss, he probably has money and can afford to fight for custody. It was also a man’s world. She swallowed the sour taste of impending defeat in her mouth. “Do you know them?”

A smile spread across Vern’s craggy features. “Sure do. His pa is an old friend of mine. Nice fellow. And his stepma is a real wonderful lady. Them kids grew up with everything a kid could ask for. Love, a good home, and plenty of teaching. If I was asked, I’d say Jackson don’t have a selfish bone in his body.”

This bit of information depressed her further. She would never intentionally wish a hard life on anyone, considering that she knew firsthand how miserable it could be, but to learn that Jackson Wolfe appeared to have everything a man could want made her furious. He’d probably
always
gotten what he wanted, and now he wanted
her
daughter and assumed it was only a matter of time before he’d get her.
Over my dead body.

“ ’Course,” Vern went on, unaware of the turmoil in Libby’s head, “Jackson’s been gone a long time. Ain’t had contact with the family for twelve years or so. Why, he ain’t even told them he’s home.”

A thread of hope. “Then…then they don’t know about Dawn?”

“Can’t say as they do. Hell, I didn’t know about it, and I think his pa would’ve brought up the fact that he has a grandchild if he knew about it. He’d have scoured the countryside for her. Alerted every lawman from here to the Mexican border. Believe me, if the Wolfe family gets wind of this—and they will, sooner or later—they’ll dote on Dawn like she was a princess. Yep, damned fine people.”

Libby continued to feel sick. “And…they’re a large family?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, a clan, of sorts. There’s Corey, Jackson’s brother, and Mandy and Kate, his sisters. Then there’s a Negro family what’s lived near them for as long as I can remember. Damned fine blacksmith, the fellow is. Their kids grew up with Jackson. Well, he was the oldest, so all of them, black and white, followed him around like he was the Pied Piper or something.”

He stroked his chin again. “Don’t know what them kids is up to these days. Haven’t seen Nate Wolfe for nearly a year.”

Libby swallowed a dejected sigh and smiled. “Thank you, Vern, you’ve been very helpful. I’ll send a wire to the lawyer in Sacramento and see what he says.”

“It’d be a damned shame for you to lose the girl.”

Libby bristled. “I have no intention of losing her, Vern.”

“Jackson’s a fighting man, you know. Stubborn, too, just like his pa. He don’t give up on something he wants.”

From the door, Libby threw the sheriff a forced smile. “Neither do I, Vern, neither do I.”

She stepped outside, nearly colliding with Chloe Ann. “Is school out already?”

Chloe Ann fell into step beside her. “It’s past three.” She raised a package toward Libby. “I had to stop and pick up some supplies at the mercantile.” She put her hand on Libby’s arm. “What’s wrong?”

Giving her a bright smile, Libby answered, “What makes you think something is wrong?”

Chloe Ann chuckled. “I may be as blind as a bat, but I’m close enough to see those frown lines gathering between your eyes.”

With a sigh, Libby fell into step beside Chloe Ann. “Jackson Wolfe is Dawn’s natural father.” At Chloe’s gasp, Libby nodded. “My reaction was a little more expressive, I’m afraid.”

“Hmm. Broken dishes?”

“How did you know?” Libby felt the return of remorse at having destroyed the crockery and put a hole in the kitchen wall with the skillet.

“I saw the shards in the wastebasket on the back porch this morning before I left for school.”

Libby’s sigh was filled with disgust. “That…that wretched man. He comes here, slowly and carefully spins a web around all of us, then slithers in for the kill.”

“Imagine how
he
might feel, Libby.”

“Him? He’s feeling pretty smug, if you ask me. But I shoved the adoption papers under his nose this morning, and although he didn’t show it, he has to be worried.” She could hope.

“I don’t know…” Chloe Ann’s voice trailed off.

“Oh, don’t tell me you think he has a chance at regaining custody,” Libby accused, suddenly feeling betrayed.

“I hope for your sake you win, Libby. You know I do. It would be so cruel for him to take Dawn away from you, but… the law is a funny thing. Not only is he her legal parent but he’s also a man. Men seem to have the upper hand in almost anything. They make the rules, you know.”

As they turned the corner, a rider galloped past, coming dangerously close to the wood-plank sidewalk.

Libby gasped and clutched her chest, her heart pounding, her ears ringing. Every time she heard the thundering of horses’ hooves, all her good sense fled. She staggered into Chloe Ann.

Chloe Ann gripped her arm. “Are you all right?”

Libby expelled a shaky breath, her knees weak. “I’m sorry. It’s foolish to be afraid of horses, but…”

“Don’t worry about it, Libby. Why, that one got my heart pounding too.” She made a disgusted sound in her throat. “You’d think it would be against the law for anyone to ride that fast in town. See? That’s what I mean. Men make the laws to suit themselves.”