Maureen McKade (27 page)

“What happened to them?”

“I killed them,” he replied grimly.

A cold shiver raced up Libby’s spine. She understood his feelings more than she could admit. “Did you ever go back to your ranch?”

Matt nodded. “Ten years later I tried to make a go of it.”

“And?”

Matt’s icy glance froze her. “What’s that got to do with my lessons?”

Libby refused to be intimidated by his fierce look. “Nothing. I was only curious.”

“My turn.”

His expression thawed, but Libby couldn’t read his thoughts beneath the shuttered expression.

“Where were you born?” he asked.

Startled, she studied his impenetrable look. “Ohio. My mother died giving birth to me, and my father passed on about seven years ago.”

“And your brother was killed in the war,” Matt added.

Libby nodded. “I told you about him.”

“How did your father die?”

Libby shrugged. “They said a heart attack. I was away at school at the time.”

Matt speared her with a gaze. “I thought you said you cared for your father before he died.”

Libby bit her tongue. The first thread of lies unraveled.
“I just told you that so you wouldn’t be embarrassed. Actually, I helped my father with many of his patients, and there isn’t much I haven’t seen.”

This time she spoke the truth, but Matt didn’t accept her explanation without reservation. “Are you sure he was even a doctor?”

Libby’s temper notched upward. “Both he and my brother were doctors. Why are you cross-examining me?”

Matt leaned back in a deceptively relaxed manner. “Is there a reason I should be?”

Libby’s heart thudded erratically. “No.”

She stood and faced the blackboard. “Let’s start by reviewing the alphabet.”

Libby’s neck muscles throbbed as she wrote out the alphabet. Did he know? Had she done something to cause his suspicions?

Matt carefully printed the letters on his slate as Libby searched her mind for something she might have done or said to give herself away. Other than the slip about her father, she couldn’t think of anything.

After Matt finished writing the alphabet, Libby expanded his lesson to sounding out longer words. A couple hours later, Matt grinned triumphantly. “This ai—isn’t as hard as I figured it would be.”

His enthusiasm warmed Libby. “You’re a fast learner, Matt. It won’t be long before you’ll be reading dime novels to Dylan.”

Guardedness crept back into Matt’s expression and he nodded. He stood and his broad-shouldered figure dwarfed Libby. She pushed back her chair and rose.

“Thanks,” he said. “Six o’clock again?”

“That’ll be fine.”

Matt shrugged into his coat and placed his hat on his lantern-gilded hair. He angled the brim over the side of his scar and sent Libby a nod. “Good night.”

“Good night,” she echoed.

He walked to the back of the classroom and turned.
“I haven’t caught the person who shot at us last night, so keep your gun handy.”

“Do you really think he’s still around?”

“It depends on what he was here for. If his purpose was to scare us, he’s long gone.”

“And if that wasn’t his purpose?”

“That’s why I want you to be careful.”

Libby drank in his concern, and a sunburst of emotions exploded within her. He might have some doubts about her, but the flame between them hadn’t dimmed. Libby’s gaze caressed his rugged face and the fires burned hotter. She wanted to feel his arms around her, be crushed against his solid chest, and pretend nothing stood between them.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Matt’s hoarse voice revealed his agitation.

In the dim halo of the lantern’s glow, Libby recognized desire mingled with bitterness. “But—”

“Stay away.” Harshness colored his tone.

“Is that you or your scar speaking?” she asked softly.

Matt’s lips thinned and his eyes darkened. He raised his head, drawing the blemished side of his face out of the shadows, and he clenched and unclenched his jaw muscle. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t want anything to do with me.”

His sentiments reflected her own doubts, but the potent attraction dulled the thought like laudanum eased pain. She stared at the tortured anguish in his face, and the longing changed to something more complex. She wanted to comfort him and erase the desolation that darkened his eyes.

Matt’s shoulders slumped and the door slammed behind his fleeing figure.

Libby collapsed into her chair.

She struggled between what was best for Matt and Dylan, and her own selfish needs. The tug-of-war buffeted her emotions and wounded her more than
anything since her family’s death. She had to convince Dylan to live with Matt. They would have each other, and she would content herself with that outcome.

The decision did little to heal the gaping hole in her heart.

Chapter 14

A
s Matt left the schoolhouse three days later, the brisk northwest wind scurried down his back, cooling his heated skin. His fourth lesson with Libby had not been a test of his reading skills, but a trial of restraint. She hadn’t done anything to encourage him. Her nearness was enough to trigger his appetite.

Matt stuck his hands in his pockets and drew the coat together to hide the evidence of his throbbing arousal. He acted more like a young kid ready to sow his oats rather than a man on the wrong side of thirty. Matt swore. He prided himself on his self-control, and unknowingly, Libby O’Hanlon had badly damaged his fortress with her warm-hearted compassion. She was right. He used his scar as a shield to protect himself from risky entanglements. He’d learned the hard way what happened when he bared his soul to a woman.

He glanced up at the blinking stars in the night sky and debated whether to continue his private lessons with Libby. His desire to learn burned nearly as bright as his attraction to her. Her innocent allure seduced him, and he had to use every ounce of willpower to concentrate on her instruction.

Matt entered the town and lantern light from windows spilled across the boardwalk to illuminate
his path. He paused in front of the Golden Slipper. Subdued voices sounded from within and he continued on. The red glow from Sadie’s house caught his attention, and he crossed the street. He hadn’t seen nor heard from the madam since Dylan had gone to Libby. After his confrontation with Sadie Saturday night, he wasn’t surprised. Still, he needed to ensure she wouldn’t demand Dylan be returned to her.

He cut over to the fancy establishment and stepped inside. The smell of cheap perfume and heavy cigar smoke assailed his lungs and he coughed, wincing at the discomfort. No one met him in the foyer and he wandered into the parlor. He remained half-hidden at the entrance, observing the fondling between the customers and the prostitutes. Ignoring the lewd activity, he searched the room for Sadie. He spotted her sitting on the lap of a handsome well-dressed man Matt had never seen before. He approached her, ignoring the startled glances from the room’s revelers.

Sadie eyed him coldly. “You’re not welcome here, Sheriff.”

“And here I thought you ran a nice, friendly business,” Matt said mockingly.

Sadie’s face flushed with rage and she disentangled herself from her customer. “Excuse me. I’ll be back as soon as I take care of an ugly problem.”

The client’s lust-filled gray eyes smoldered with impatience.

Matt grinned, tipped his hat to the man, and followed Sadie’s rigid back to her office.

She settled into her throne behind the shiny rosewood desk and fixed Matt with a baleful gaze. “You got the bastard. What else do you want?”

Matt remained standing in the center of the opulent room. “I want to make sure you know you won’t ever get Dylan back.”

The lighted chandelier deepened the circles beneath Sadie’s fishlike eyes. “That’s up to Judge Benson, isn’t it?”

“Once he hears what you done to Dylan, he won’t let you near him.”

Sadie pressed her fingertips together and studied her long red nails. “Howard Benson’s one of my best, shall I say, friends.”

Shaken, Matt struggled to maintain his air of confidence. “When I’m through telling him what you done to Dylan, that friendship isn’t going to be worth a damn.”

Sadie sneered. “You’re going to be the one who won’t be worth a damn. After I tell the judge what you were before you pinned on that badge, he’s going to give the bastard back to me with his blessing. No judge would give a boy to a worthless drunk.”

Contempt hazed Matt’s vision. “I haven’t touched a drop of liquor in three years, and even when I was drunk, I wouldn’t have beat an innocent boy.”

Sadie pushed a strand of stringy blond hair off her painted face. “But there’s always a chance you’d fall back in the bottle, and who knows what you’re capable of doing?”

Matt struggled to preserve his composure, but a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. “We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about Dylan and what kind of life he’d have with you.”

Sadie rose and flattened her palms on the desktop. Her breasts heaved and threatened to escape the plunging neckline of her shiny blue dress. “Do you know who Dylan’s father was?”

Matt shook his head. “I really don’t give a damn.”

“Jonas and me, we had some good times moving from town to town, selling bottles of miracle elixir made from rotgut whiskey and sorghum. We done a fine business off folks stupid enough to believe all the
lies we told’em.” Sadie’s laugh chilled him. “Then I got a little careless and got pregnant. When I told Jonas about it, he went crazy and started beating the hell out of me. He left me for dead. Took me nearly a month to recover, and by that time I was showing so I couldn’t get rid of the bastard.

“I spent five months there, working like a damn slave for my room and board until he was born. Dylan was the spitting image of his goddamn father, and I swore then and there the bastard would pay for ruining my life.”

Matt recoiled from the cloud of crazed hatred surrounding Sadie. “You ruined your own life when you paired up with this Jonas. Let Dylan be.”

Coldly, Sadie smiled, revealing yellowed teeth. “I’ll get him back because he’s mine.”

Matt’s thread of control threatened to unravel. “Libby O’Hanlon isn’t going to let you take Dylan. Even Judge Benson can see a schoolteacher would be a better mother than a whore.”

“We’ll see about that.” Sadie looked like a cat who drank a bowl of cream.

Matt’s stomach turned. “As long as I’m alive, you’ll never get Dylan back.”

Sadie’s kohl-blackened eyelashes fluttered. “That can be taken care of, too.”

“Go ahead and try it, lady. It’d be my pleasure to toss you in jail until hell freezes over,” Matt stated. He spun around and left the lion’s den. Sadie’s shrill curses followed him out.

He jerked open the door and stepped outside. His breath wisped like fog and disappeared with the bitter wind. With every foot away from the house, his fear increased. If he fought for Dylan, his sordid past would be revealed. Libby would see him without blinders, and she’d turn away. He imagined her disgust, and emptiness yawned wide within him. Was Dylan worth the loss of Libby’s respect? Could he live
with himself if he didn’t fight for Dylan? Or could he compromise?

He’d help Libby gain custody of Dylan. The solution seemed perfect. Dylan would be protected by Libby and himself. There’d be no reason to debate his drinking history if she adopted the boy.

Still, anxiety swept through Matt. Sadie had seemed too confident when he’d mentioned Libby’s interest in Dylan.

What did she know that he didn’t?

Matt pulled a tarnished watch out of his vest and popped the cover open. Half past four. He closed the lid and slipped the timepiece back in his pocket.

Leaning back in his chair, he contemplated his next meeting with Libby. He would tell her about his visit to Sadie’s, omitting his drunken past. In order to keep Dylan from being returned to his mother, he and Libby needed a plan. Judge Benson arrived in town the following week, and Dylan’s future would be decided then.

Matt would be damned if he’d allow Sadie to continue using Dylan as a whipping boy for the man who’d sired him. If the verdict went in Sadie’s favor, Matt would steal him away before she claimed him.

The door flew open and Dylan whirled inside. “You want to come help me build a snowman?”

Snowflakes powdered Dylan’s head and shoulders and garnished his long dark eyelashes. Matt grinned. “Looks like you’re already a snowman.”

“I mean a real one with a button nose and sticks for arms, and maybe Dr. Clapper will give us one of his pipes so he can be a smoking snowman.” Dylan dissolved into giggles.

Matt’s chest tightened at the boyish pleasure on Dylan’s red-cheeked face. Seeing him having genuine fun brought a burst of warmth in Matt’s heart. How could he not accept Dylan’s invitation? His smile
widened. “I doubt if Eli would care much for that idea, but I bet you and I can still put together a pretty good snowman.”

Dylan grabbed Matt’s hand and pulled him out of his chair. “Let’s go. Time’s a’wasting.”

Matt chuckled and donned his coat and gloves. He wrapped a scarf around his lower face.

Dylan raised his own scarf over his mouth. “You and I could be a couple train robbers.”

Matt glanced at him and noticed only a slight discoloration around Dylan’s eye remained from his mother’s beating. “Then I’d have to arrest us.”

Matt steered him out with a guiding hand on his shoulder. Dylan led them away from town and toward the schoolhouse. Once Deer Creek disappeared behind them, Matt glanced about. What would people think if they saw their sheriff playing in the snow? He chuckled.

“What’re you laughing about, Sheriff?” Dylan asked with a muffled voice.

“I think I’m in trouble if the mayor catches me making a snowman.” Matt tossed a snowball at Dylan and it splatted on his chest. The boy giggled and pelted Matt with a handful of snow, then he ran.

Libby tilted her head. Was that laughter? She rose from behind her desk and crossed the room to look out the window. She scratched the frost from the glass and blinked. Matt and Dylan were tossing snowballs at each other. Shock gave way to amusement as the mock battle ended with each combatant blanketed in white from head to toe.

This carefree Matt captivated Libby. He appeared even more handsome without reticence guarding his motions. She wanted to hear Matt laugh unabashedly, and share in Dylan’s lighthearted fun. The temptation overcame her caution and she tossed aside propriety. She’d taught her last class and had nothing to lose.

Libby dashed to her room and quickly changed into
long underwear and a pair of pants. She pulled on a heavy wool shirt, then tugged her boots over warm socks. After braiding her long hair, she stuffed the thick plait under a fur hat. Buttoning her coat, she had a moment of uncertainty. But the sound of laughter floated in the wind, and her doubts vanished.

Bundled against the cold, Libby plunged into the brisk winter afternoon. As she approached them, Matt glanced up. Surprise shuttered what she could see of his features.

Her quavering heart hammered in her chest. “Mind if I join you?”

“Hi, Miss O’Hanlon,” Dylan greeted. “We’re making a snowman.”

Conscious of Matt’s cool gaze, Libby smiled nervously. “I see that. I used to be pretty good at making snowmen. Could you use another helper?”

Dylan looked at Matt. “Is it okay?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Matt shrugged. “Why not?”

Libby sensed his tension, and wished he would revert back to the mood he’d been in before she arrived. She forced a perkiness she didn’t feel. “What do you want me to do?”

“What do you think, Dylan? This is your project,” Matt said.

“You can make the head,” he proclaimed.

Libby nodded. “I think I can handle that.”

She squatted down and picked up a handful of snow. After palming it into a ball, she rolled it across the white ground.

Matt’s gaze flickered to Libby. Trousers molded to her rounded behind and curved around her thighs, leaving nothing to his overactive imagination. Between her pants and the forbidden caresses they’d shared, Matt knew she wasn’t nearly as proper as her somber skirts and blouses suggested. The memory of those stolen moments and the enticing picture she
made kneeling in the snow brought a rush of heat to Matt’s blood.

“What do you think we should use for eyes?” Dylan asked.

“I’ve got some buttons in my desk,” Libby suggested.

“Can I go get them?”

Libby smiled and nodded. “They’re in the top middle drawer.”

Dylan loped across the snow-littered yard.

“Matt?”

He turned at her tentative call. “What is it?”

“I didn’t mean to interfere. You and Dylan sounded like you were having so much fun, and I thought maybe I could join in.” She stood and brushed her knees free of snow. “If you don’t want me here, I’ll go back to the school.” Libby cast her gaze downward.

He realized he didn’t want her to go. “No, that’s all right. Dylan likes having you here.”

She glanced at him. “But if you don’t want me here …”

Her sad eyes twisted his gut and made him feel like a lowdown skunk.

“No, it’s not that. You surprised me is all,” he said. He pointed at her legs. “Not many women I know wear trousers.”

Her lips twitched with a wry smile. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended your tender sensibilities.”

Matt threw back his head and roared with laughter. “The way you look in those pants makes only one thing tender, and it isn’t my sensibilities.”

The top of Libby’s cheeks flushed a deep red, but her eyes twinkled. “You know, there’s only one cure for that.”

“And what’s that?”

Libby grabbed a handful of snow and stuffed the cold wetness down his back. Matt yelped in surprise at her attack, then he looped his arm around her waist
and pulled her down on the ground with him. She landed on top of him and he deftly flipped her on to her back, straddling her with his knees to keep her in place.

He scooped powdery flakes into his palm. “Your turn.”

Libby laughed and grabbed his arm. “I give up.”

“Will you accept my terms of surrender?”

“What are your terms?”

Matt’s awareness of her warm, slender body between his thighs pierced him with an arrow of desire. The playfulness in Libby’s expression softened and she gazed at him with unconcealed interest. He fought the demanding need in his groin. “One kiss and you can go free.”

Libby’s eyes widened. “I accept.”

Matt dropped the snow in his hand and removed his leather glove. He gently eased her scarf down. A tender smile sculpted her full red lips, and her cheeks glowed with a rosy shine. He wondered how much of her pretty flush the cold painted, and how much was due to her awakening passion. He feathered back a strand of copper hair from her temple. She settled her gloved hands on his shoulders and he shuddered. He traced her smoothly curved jaw with his finger.

“Are you going to kiss me or not?” Libby asked huskily.