by Jillian Hart
May 1890
Cassiopeia O’Rourke had been named for a constellation, but Heaven couldn’t have been further away as she stepped inside the Guthrie Corners sheriff’s office. Behind the steel bars sat her twelve-year-old son, looking not the least bit sorry he’d thrown a rock through a window. The church window, Cassie reminded herself. She couldn’t think of a better way to fan the fires against them.
Since coming home a month ago, she’d wondered every day if she’d done the right thing for Luke. They’d been living in a poor Chicago neighborhood in a tiny flat, one she could barely afford on a bookkeeper’s salary, when she’d received a letter informing her she’d inherited her father’s mercantile business. The day before, she’d caught Luke in the alley lighting trash on fire. The day before that, he’d been disciplined at school for foul language. Where he’d learned such words, she couldn’t imagine. And before that…Cassie sighed. The list went on for a mile.
She’d hoped that moving to Guthrie Corners would give Luke a second chance, that by taking him away from his so-called friends she’d find the sweet boy who’d enjoyed her hugs. Judging by the visit she’d received from Pastor Hall a few minutes ago, she’d been wrong…again.
As she looked around the sheriff’s office, her regrets were legion but none were greater than the regrets concerning Deputy Gabe Wyatt. He stood in front of her now with a glint in his eyes and his arms loose at his sides. Dressed in brown trousers, a dark blue shirt and a leather vest, he seemed stronger than ever. His face had a familiar calm, but his hair, wavy and the color of tarnished gold, looked as if he’d raked his hand through it. If he’d been dealing with Luke, he probably had.
Cassie forced herself to hold his gaze until his eyes darted from her face to her toes, then back up. There was nothing personal about his perusal, no sense of the past and kisses they’d shared. He’d taken her measure as if she were a stranger. With her son behind bars, he’d doubtlessly found her lacking as a mother. Fine, Cassie thought. Let him judge her. Others had. Right or wrong, everyone in Guthrie Corners had an opinion on Cassie Higgins O’Rourke.
What kind of mother lets her child run wild like that?
As if she could keep Luke in a cage.
What kind of mother doesn’t volunteer at church?
One who ran her own business, a failing one thanks to gossip and grudges.
What kind of woman would leave Gabe Wyatt at the altar?
A stupid one.
As Cassie raised her chin, Gabe crossed his arms over his chest. Fourteen years ago she could have had those arms around her. She could have been his wife. She wouldn’t have traded Luke for anything, but she deeply regretted her marriage to Ryan O’Rourke. A long time ago she’d chased after a lie. Instead of settling down with Gabe, she’d run away to Chicago to become an actress. The stage…excitement…freedom. She’d found two of the three. She’d acted in one play and had been swept off her feet by Luke’s father, but freedom had eluded her.
Between her wretched marriage, empty pockets and troubled son, Cassie felt as trapped as the constellation for which she’d been named. A vain queen, Cassiopeia had been chained to a chair in the night sky. No matter how the earth turned, she sat with her neck bent in shame. Cassie lived with the same disgrace. She didn’t want to look Gabe in the eye, but she had to be strong for Luke.
As she raised her head, he lowered his chin. “Hello, Cassie.”
“Good afternoon, Deputy.” It didn’t seem right to call him Gabe. She’d lost that privilege.
His eyes narrowed with irritation. “I take it Reverend Hall spoke to you.”
“Yes.”
“So you know why Luke’s here.”
“I do.” Her insides started to shake. The longer she looked at Gabe, the more she wanted to beg for his forgiveness. She’d tried to apologize when she’d first arrived. She’d sent a note asking him to come by the store, but he’d ignored it. Looking at him now, she saw a rock wall. She would have blurted her apologies, but she couldn’t speak to Gabe in front of Luke. Gabe deserved as much privacy as she could give him, and Luke needed her undivided attention. She turned to the cell where he lay sprawled on the cot with his hands behind his head, one leg bent and the other stretched as if he didn’t have a care in the world. The pose struck her as vain. The boy had inherited Cassie’s looks, but he had his father’s arrogance.
She doubted he’d obey, but she had to try. “Luke, sit up. This concerns you.”
He made a snoring sound.
Cassie made her voice stern. “This isn’t a request.”
Luke grunted. For an instant she thought he’d obey, but instead he switched the position of his legs and sighed.
Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. What could she do? Take away his allowance? She’d already cut it to nothing. Resort to spanking? Hardly. Cassie knew how it felt to be hit and couldn’t abide violence. Besides, Luke had grown four inches this year. He could look her in the eye and probably outweighed her.
With her mouth in a firm line, she turned to Gabe. “I apologize for my son. Of course we’ll pay for the window.”
“Fine,” Gabe said. “But there’s no ‘we’ here.”
Cassie stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“Luke broke the window. He’s the one who has to pay.”
“Of course, but he’s a child.”
Gabe eyed her thoughtfully, then shot a glance into the cell. Her son made another snoring sound.
Cassie’s cheeks flamed. “Luke! Stop that.”
As soon as the order left her mouth, she regretted it. She’d just waved a red flag in front of a bull. Just as she feared, Luke let out a belch that would have made Henry VIII proud. Embarrassed to the core, she looked at Gabe. Instead of judgment in his eyes, she saw a twinkle. Cassie saw no humor in the situation at all. She started to speak, but Gabe gave a tight shake of his head.
Winking at her, he called out to Luke. “Nice job, kid. But it’s going to cost you.”
She opened her mouth to ask what, but Gabe put his finger to his lips to silence her. Cassie bristled. She didn’t take orders from anyone, especially not from arrogant men, but she sensed Gabe’s wisdom. Besides, she had nothing to lose. The situation with Luke couldn’t get much worse.
She nodded her agreement, then looked at her son lying like a lump on the gray blanket. He drummed his fingers on the wall, then burped again. Cassie bit her lip. Twenty seconds later, Luke belched a third time. Mortified, she turned to Gabe. Before she could speak, he silenced her with a look.
Cassie didn’t like being treated like a child. Even more upsetting, she couldn’t bear the quiet. Growing up in the Higginses’ household, she’d endured family meals where no one said a word. She’d learned to despise silence, especially at night when she looked at the stars. She’d long ago stopped praying for herself, but every night she asked the Lord to look after her son. In those dark hours, she heard nothing.
Now, to her amazement, she heard a wealth of sound…the rasp of Gabe’s breath, the beat of Luke’s fingers on the wall. The clock ticked and a wagon rattled by. Calmer, she risked a glance at her son. To her amazement, he’d raised his head and was staring at Gabe. The lawman didn’t move a muscle.
Luke finally broke the silence. “What’s it going to cost me?”
“On your feet, kid.”
To Cassie’s amazement, he complied. He moved like a snail and he didn’t look happy, but he stood up.
“That’s good,” Gabe said. “Now apologize to your mother.”
More silence.
This time Cassie enjoyed it. She knew how patient Gabe could be. The only time he’d rushed her had been about their wedding. She’d been seventeen and had wanted to wait a year. He’d been eager and had pushed for June. She’d said yes to please him, but in most matters Gabe had the patience of Job. The thought sent a pang from her head to her heart. How long had he waited for her at the church?
Luke must have sensed Gabe’s stubbornness, because he turne
d to her. “Sorry, Mother.”
Her heart ached with fresh pain. She didn’t want to be Mother. She wanted to be “Mama” again, or “Ma” because it fit his age. The way Luke said “Mother,” she felt like a shrew.
Gabe glowered at the boy. “You got the words right. Now say it like you mean it.”
Cassie saw the hard set of Gabe’s jaw and knew he’d stand here all day.
Luke must have realized it, too. He looked at his feet, then raised his head. His hair, dark and lanky, hung across his eyes. She’d tried to take him to the barbershop, but he’d fought her on it. He’d insisted he was too old to have his mother take him and that he’d go himself. He still hadn’t done it.
To her relief, he looked sheepish. “I’m sorry, Ma.”
In a five-minute standoff, Gabe had worked a miracle. Cassie’s heart soared as she looked at Luke. “I accept. We’ll talk more at home.”
The boy, expecting to be released, looked at Gabe.
Instead of opening the cell door, Gabe hooked his thumbs on his belt. “Sit down, Luke. We’re not done.”
“Of course,” Cassie said. “We—Luke—has to pay for the window.”
“That’s not enough,” Gabe said.
“And he has to apologize to Reverend Hall,” she added.
Gabe ignored her.
Confused, she followed his stare to Luke and saw what she’d come to call “the look.” The boy stood with his neck slightly bent and an innocent expression pasted to his face. He looked as sweet as pie, but a smirk lurked behind his eyes. She’d seen that arrogance in Ryan O’Rourke when he’d come home after a night with another woman. She’d seen it in Luke, too. If her son thought he could get away with breaking the window, he was dead wrong. She had to make him understand, but how? What more could she do?
She was searching for an answer when Gabe faced her. “I’d like a word with you, Mrs. O’Rourke. In private.”
“Of course.”
She gave her son a look that promised a talking-to later, then followed Gabe out the front door.
She still smells good.
That was Gabe’s first thought as he led Cassie to a patch of grass behind the jailhouse. He’d have preferred speaking to her out of public view, but he didn’t want Luke to hear what he had to say. Neither did he want to be alone with her, but it couldn’t be helped. Until now, except for an occasional glance through the window of Higgins Mercantile—part of his job, he told himself—he’d steered clear of Cassie O’Rourke.
The visit from Reverend Hall had changed everything. The minister had caught Luke throwing rocks at the church. He’d broken just one window, but judging by the arsenal at his feet, he’d planned to break them all. Luke had outrun Reverend Hall, but by a stroke of luck, fate or God’s hand—Gabe believed in the third—the boy had plowed into him. The Reverend had caught up to them and Luke had landed in jail.
Now here he stood with Cassie. One look at her told Gabe the truth he’d fought for fourteen years. She’d wounded him to the core, but he hadn’t stopped loving her.
Blinking, he flashed back to their so-called wedding day. He’d worried for a full hour before Reverend Hall had pulled him into his office and told him that Cassie was missing. When he’d gone to the house he’d built for her, he’d found the note she’d penned on fine stationery.
I’m sorry, Gabe. I just can’t do it.
Why he’d kept the note, he couldn’t say. But he had it tucked in the Wyatt family Bible, the one where he’d already written their names. Looking at Cassie now, he asked the question that had plagued him for fourteen years.
Why, Cassie? What couldn’t you tell me?
The question hung in his mind like a hawk soaring against the wind. It just hung there, working hard but going nowhere. He wanted to ask it now but he wouldn’t. Only a fool stuck his own head in a guillotine. He’d have ignored Cassie forever if it hadn’t been for Luke. Gabe had a soft spot for fatherless boys. He’d been one himself…which got him to wondering. What had happened to Mr. O’Rourke?
Don’t ask.
For the second time that day, he raked his hand through his hair. He couldn’t let Cassie get close, but neither could he turn his back on her son. It would cost him to befriend Luke, but so would doing nothing. If he didn’t do his best for the boy, Luke would keep getting into trouble and Gabe would have to deal with even bigger problems. He’d also be up all night with a guilty conscience. When push came to shove, he didn’t have a choice in how he treated Luke. He hoped Cassie would go along with his plan.
When they reached the grass, he indicated the bench under an oak. The spot was next to the town library and a well-meaning soul had made it inviting with daffodils now in bloom, the stone bench and a swing hanging from a thick branch.
Cassie stayed on her feet. Either she hadn’t seen his gesture or she’d ignored it. Looking nervous, she faced him. “Luke’s not a bad boy. He’s just—”
Gabe held up a hand to stop her. He heard the same speech every time he dealt with a fatherless kid like Luke.
He’s really a good boy.
He didn’t mean to do it.
Gabe didn’t begrudge Cassie’s defense of her son. That’s how mothers loved their children. They saw the best and believed the best. Only now, with Luke throwing rocks, she had to face facts. Broken windows led to bank robberies, prison, even death at the end of a noose. He had to get her attention.
“Mrs. O’Rourke, your son’s in trouble.” He thought of her as Cassie and always would, but earlier she’d called him “Deputy.” It had rankled him.
She looked put off. Gabe wondered if the formality irked her the way it irked him, then chastised himself for the thought. It didn’t matter how she reacted. She clearly didn’t love him. If she had, she wouldn’t have left him at the altar twiddling this thumbs with a gold band in his pocket. He didn’t mean to scowl at her, but he’d never gotten over the embarrassment. Half the town had been in the pews. The pity had just about killed him.
Cassie looked down at the grass. “Luke has problems. I know that.”
Her voice dropped so low, he barely heard her. “When did the trouble start?”
“A while ago.”
“Before you came to Guthrie Corners?”
“Yes.”
She was still staring at the grass. He wanted to tell her to look him in the eye, but he feared the shine of tears. He settled for looking at the crown of her head, where her dark curls were twisted into a knot. In the sunlight he saw strands of red and remembered thinking she had pretty hair. She still did.
Fool! He had to keep his mind on Luke and off the boy’s mother.
Cassie dropped down on the bench. Instead of meeting Gabe’s gaze, she stared at the bars marking Luke’s cell and spoke to the wall. “Luke’s the reason I came home instead of selling the store.”
He’d figured as much, though part of him had wondered if—even after all this time—she’d come for him. Did she think of him at all? Apparently not.
“We lived in Chicago,” she continued. “Luke made new friends—the wrong kind, if you know what I mean.”
Gabe knew very well. “It happens.”
“Maybe, but not to my son.” Cassie finally raised her chin. “I’ll do anything for Luke. I know he’s in trouble. I see it in his eyes. He’s—” She looked down, pressed her hands to her cheeks and gulped air. As her shoulders swelled and shook, he thought of a flustered bird trying to protect itself.
In his line of work, Gabe dealt with lots of crying women. He knew the power of a strong shoulder and often played the big brother. It came with the job, but this was Cassie and he didn’t feel the least bit brotherly. Even so, how could he leave her to weep? He couldn’t. Wise or not, he sat next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. The next thing he knew, she’d pressed her cheek against the top part of his vest. Nothing but leather, muscle and bone separated her tears from the very heart she’d broken.
She was trying to talk, but Gabe couldn’t m
ake out the words. Nor did he want to. She’d broken his heart once and could do it again. He had to keep his distance. He had to remember that day in church and the months that followed. They’d stretched into long, lonely years. He wanted a wife and had done some courting, but no one had measured up to Cassie. He’d loved her that much. He still did, but he hated what she’d done to him.
Forgive her.
The command came from his conscience. He knew that Jesus had died for him. Like every other sinner on earth, he was an imperfect man with imperfect thoughts. Christ had died for Cassie’s mistakes, too. Gabe knew that truth in his marrow, but common sense told him to let sleeping dogs lie. As the saying went, “Once bitten, twice shy.”
He waited until her sobs eased, then he lifted his arm from her shoulders. As he stood and walked to the cottonwood, Cassie removed a hankie from her drawstring bag and dabbed at her eyes. “This is embarrassing. I don’t usually cry.”
I know. Before today she’d never cried on his shoulder. During their courtship, he’d admired her strength. Now he wondered what she’d been hiding from him. He clamped his jaw tight and leaned against the smooth bark of the tree. He had to focus on the business at hand. “It’s understandable. You’re worried about your boy.”
“More like panicked,” she said ruefully. “I’ve disciplined him every way I know, but nothing works.”
“That’s because he’s mad at the world.”
She sighed. “And especially at me.”
“That’s a good sign,” he replied. “It shows you’re trying.”
“I am, but nothing helps. I’m at a loss.”
“I’m not,” he said confidently. “Luke wants to be a man. He just doesn’t know how.”
Her eyes widened with understanding. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Gabe didn’t want to ask the next question, but he needed to know for Luke’s sake. “It’s none of my business, but where’s the boy’s father?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care.” She bit off each word. “He’s not a part of our lives.”
Questions swirled in Gabe’s mind, but only one answer mattered. Whoever he was, this O’Rourke character had hurt Cassie. For years he’d taken comfort in the notion she’d found happiness. Apparently not. O’Rourke had left her with a son and a mess to clean up. Gabe knew all about boys, messes and broken glass. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Luke broke the law. That means I’m involved.”