Liberty Belle (2 page)

Libby squinted in the bright sunlight and staggered to the shade of the large elm in the churchyard. Now able to see, she could only stare in shock at the wedding guests who murmured and pointed fingers her way.

Humiliation drove her from the church to the boardwalk. Reeling from the madness, she hurriedly climbed the steps to the raised platform. Tears blurred her vision. Glancing back to see if Flora was following, her toe caught on a warped board. Tottering, she pitched forward and bounced off the good-sized matron, Mrs. Filbert.

The woman shouted, swung around, and inadvertently shoved Libby toward the edge of the walk. Libby reached for the post to catch her balance, missed the wooden pole, and fell backward off the high boardwalk. Flailing, she grasped air.

Strong hands grabbed her around the waist and kept her from spilling onto the dirt or worse. Her rescuer released her as soon as she secured her footing. Whirling to face him, she stared but saw only sun. Libby shielded her tear-soaked eyes.

Through a blur, she caught sight of a tall figure. She blinked. His image cleared and revealed a handsome, rugged face framed by wisps of dark hair curling from under a gray, sweat-ringed hat. Then her breath caught as she stared into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

A wry grin added likeability to his good looks. He nodded and stepped aside. “Careful, miss. That’s a high boardwalk. Good thing I was there for you.” His deep voice scattered her thoughts.

“Thank you.” She gave a slight curtsy, surprised as a flickering lightness tumbled with her wedding disappointment.

He put a finger to his hat and nodded.

Flora slipped a gloved hand under Libby’s arm and mumbled something about people watching and they should go.

Intrigued by the stranger, Libby resisted her aunt’s urging. A badge on the man’s chest held her interest. She hadn’t heard of any new lawman. Before she could ask his name, her rescuer stepped away, grabbed the reins to a dusty bay, and swung into the saddle. He rode a few feet, paused, and turned to face her.

Sunlight glinted off his badge and the gun at his side, but it was the attentive look in his sky-colored eyes that took her breath. Their gazes locked. The sounds around her subsided.

A buckboard piled high with goods stopped between them, blocking her view.

Libby stood on tiptoe searching for him, hoping he hadn’t ridden away. The wagon finally moved and she sighed with relief. He was still there, and then her heart tripped. He was no longer looking at her but scowling at a telegram in his hand. Had she only imagined their silent bond?

His horse pawed at the ground and sidestepped toward the crowd. With a jerk, he reined the animal in a tight circle and came to a halt in front of her. His scowl vanished as he stared at her with a longing that she understood only too well.

Libby’s heart stirred. A spark she’d never felt before ignited. Vaguely aware others were watching and talking in a low buzz, she edged toward him. She wanted to meet this man. Had to meet him.

Muttering, Mr. Garvey stomped in front of her, shooting her an expression of pity topped by annoyance. By the time Thomas’ father was gone, the lawman’s attention was again on the paper. This time anger lit his eyes. With a scowl, he tore the badge from his chest and threw it to the ground. Without looking back at her, he spun his horse and rode away at a gallop.

Her connection with the man snapped like a dry twig. Strangely unsettled, she watched him disappear into the dust and afternoon sunlight. Aunt Flora fussed over her, but Libby didn’t move until the squeaky wheels of their buggy signaled her father’s arrival.

“Let’s go.” Father’s brusque voice jarred her back to being the jilted bride.

She stepped toward the carriage but stopped and picked up the tin emblem. Why would a lawman give up his badge?

Aunt Flora touched her arm and peered at her with an empathetic gaze. “Shall we see to your mother?”

Mother. 
Libby clutched her own chest. How would Mother’s heart react to the disappointment?

Her father drove without speaking to her, only barking at the matched pair of bay coach horses to keep them moving. He didn’t even look at her. Aunt Flora, fanning as if her life depended on it, engaged in a steady barrage of whispered questions that she then herself answered.

Libby fingered the stranger’s badge. His image stayed, burned into her mind, shockingly taking the place of the unknown man in her dreams.

With a start, she returned her focus to the day’s nightmare. Sadness crept over her. Her mother’s dream had been denied. Wiping a tear, Libby tried not to think about the disappointment. She just hoped her bed-ridden mother’s weakened heart could handle the news.

The horses’ steady clip slowed to a clop. Heart dropping, Libby gripped the seat as the buggy turned into the long, tree-lined drive of her home. Heaviness pressed onto her shoulders. Instead of marrying into a prestigious family, she’d live a life of
oh dears
and frantic fanning.

Father gave her a curious inspection that soon slipped to pity.

Libby was tempted to feel piteous when the door to the house opened.

Mother?

She grasped her father’s arm. “Mother is standing on the porch? Do you think there’s been a miracle?”

He groaned and muttered under his breath.

Flora’s fan stopped. “Oh dear. Oh my.”

The shock on her mother’s face caused Libby to exhale. She needed to breathe in but her corset held her ribs tight, and once again, her ears filled with that roaring sound.

Mother collapsed onto the swing.

With her last bit of air, Libby gasped, “I’ve killed Mother.”

Chapter 2

Sheriff Wade Calder galloped away from the town of Crimson. Thirsting for revenge, he hungered to find his quarry and kept the bay at a steady pace until he came to a creek. Sides heaving and neck lathered, the horse strained against the reins to get to the water. Too much too fast and the animal would founder. Wade held him back and dismounted.

The day was warm, too warm to be pushing the little mustang so hard. He patted the gelding’s sweaty neck and then glanced at the horse’s swollen right foreleg. Regret swiped at Wade. What was he turning into. He’d never mistreated a horse before but then he’d never turned his back on the law before either.

Shoulders burdened by guilt, he led the mustang to the stream and let him take a few gulps.

“Easy, Banjo.” Wade pulled the bay from the water’s edge and walked him around a couple of stout cottonwoods to cool down. If only he could cool his own anger at the same time.

The crinkle of the paper in his pocket reminded him of the judgment. Hot rage flashed through him.
Immunity.
The judge had written the order and called him off the trail.

Martin Taylor had been cleared of all charges for giving evidence against the marauders.

Hands shaking, Wade ripped his hat off and threw it to the ground. Fist clenched, he glared into the sky. “Four people dead—my whole family, and Taylor goes free? Not in my book!”

White-eyed with fear, the gelding eyes yanked on the reins. Wade shelved his wrath and talked softly to calm the spooked horse.

Wiping sweat from his brow, he wondered if the cause was the warm day or the hate that had invaded his life. He couldn’t afford to let his ire get to him, take the edge off his aim, or cloud his judgment, but the sour taste of bitterness dimming his conscience warned that he’d already crossed that line.

He ran a hand over Banjo’s leg and grimaced at the warmth. The little mustang needed to rest at least a day. Wade figured he could catch up to Taylor in a day, two at most. The blacksmith said the man had traded his horse for a wagon. His enemy must be counting on the judgment to keep him safe.

With a sneer, Wade glared down the dirt trail. “Don’t count on it, Taylor. I’m coming for you. Nothing’s going to stop me.”

A hollow emptiness ambushed Wade. Could he really go against the law? Icy pricks stabbed his insides. Maybe he needed a break as much as the horse. The shade was welcoming, the water plentiful, and the creek banks lined with lush grass. The weight of the loss of his family and the burning shame at the way he’d treated Banjo, sapped Wade’s remaining energy and sealed his decision to stay.

Although the note in his pocket said the hunt was over, the thirst for revenge in his heart said different. He wanted to believe he was doing right, doing what his parents would have wanted, but deep inside he knew he was on the wrong path. He just didn’t see any way off.

He tethered the gelding and took off the bridle and saddle. He could use the time to plan his next move. Yet even as he prepared to settle down, the one thing Wade was sure of was that he’d see the man pay. The marauder admitted to leading the raid on Wade’s family. Martin Taylor deserved to die for spilling Calder blood.

Wade shook out his bedroll near the stream and relaxed to the gentle trickle of water over rock. A mourning dove cooed its sorrowful call and was answered by another across the stream.

Wade stretched out and flung a rock at one of the bothersome doves. The roiling hatred kept his mind at a run every bit as hard as he’d ridden Banjo. He brushed a fly from his chest and fingered the empty spot on his shirt. Had he really thrown his badge down?

His mind slipped to that moment in Crimson, and he thought of the beauty who’d fallen into his arms. Tears sparkled like diamonds on her creamy skin. He could still picture her rich, dark hair and the way it set off her green eyes. He’d heard someone say she’d been jilted. A beautiful bride with no groom? He’d have never left her at the altar. Any other time and he’d have never left without her name.

Wade closed his eyes and recalled her image, her touch, her pain. And then the way she’d stood in the dust and noise and stared at him as if he were the only man in the world.

He shook his head. No future there. A lady like her wouldn’t want anything to do with a former sheriff bent on breaking the law.

Was Taylor’s death really worth his own neck? He tried to think of the woman, the quiet stream, anything, but once awakened, the rage spurred his need to find his family’s killer. For two years, he’d had no peace.

I will give you peace.

The thought, voice, he wasn’t sure which, came out of nowhere. He sat up and looked around.

No one.

Unbidden, memories of sweet days around the dinner table resurrected. Heads bowed in prayer. His father reading from the heavy family Bible.

Is that where the words had come from? Mother had always told him the Lord was near, ready to whisper wisdom to those who asked.

Well, he hadn’t asked. The hatred in his heart left no room for the forgiveness God’s peace required.

Old resentments reared their heads. Desires dashed by hardship. Hope destroyed by his family’s death.

No
.

God might say He gave peace, but it came at too heavy a price. One Wade wasn’t willing to pay.

###

Libby opened her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Apparently the monster squeezing her middle had been slain. She blinked. She was inside her house, sprawled on the golden velvet couch in the parlor. Above her, and with varying degrees of concern wrinkling their brows, stood Aunt Flora, Father, and Mother.

Mother?
Shock slowed Libby’s mind. Mother falling. Her ailing heart. “Mother, what happened?”

Father, who wore the most troubled expression, sighed as if he’d been holding his own breath. “There’s my girl. Better now?”

Aunt Flora, ever the worried one, flitted about like a hummingbird. “Oh dear. There, there. Maybe we should get you comfortable. Oh, what an ordeal.”

“I’m fine.” Libby pushed past her aunt and sat. Wanting to collect her thoughts, Libby turned her gaze to Mother, whose face was now pink and not pale.

Her parents stepped back.

For the last week, Mother had worn the pasty face of death. Now, her mother radiated health. Yet, no one acted as if a healing had occurred. Surely Mother wouldn’t ….

Libby rubbed her aching head and took a better look at Eleanor Longstreet. Memories of how her mother manipulated her and Father flipped pages in Libby’s mind. Lots of pages. In fact, an encyclopedia of schemes from
A
to
Z
.

Realization struck Libby with a force that threatened to double her over. “You weren’t sick, were you, Mother?”

The woman retreated, fanning her face with her hand while stumbling to sit on a nearby chair. “Well I do feel a little weak, and this past month, my heart did go into a fit of palpitations—”

“You tricked me into marrying Thomas, trying to marry Thomas. I can only wonder how you deceived him.” Libby forced herself to stand.

“Darling—” With arms open for a hug, the petite schemer rushed toward her.

Libby sidestepped the contact. “I worried about you so and would have married a man I didn’t even love just to give you your last wish. I don’t—”

“You love Thomas. You two have been inseparable since you were three.”

“His absence should tell you otherwise. We loved each other as friends. I was shocked when he asked me to marry him and in such a rush. It all makes sense to me now.” Libby shuddered with anger.

Her father stepped closer. “Honey, I’m sorry. I should’ve stopped—”

“Father, it is I who am sorry for you. Before I say something I’ll regret, I’m going to my room.”

Libby stomped past him. She was tempted to feel sorry for his obvious sadness, but he deserved it. After one scathing glance toward her aunt, Flora collapsed onto the couch. They must have all been in on Mother’s fakery.

With a calculating gleam in her emerald eyes, Mother stood as tall as her small frame permitted to block the path to the stairs.

Determined not to give in, Libby skirted around her. Conscious of her family’s gaze upon her back, she walked calmly up the stairs to her room. She needed the practice. When she went to town, the people were sure to go into a gossip frenzy.

She reached her room and slammed the door. Mother needed to know all was not forgiven. A breeze reminded her that her dress was undone in the back. With a growl, Libby flung off the gown.