The moppish mutt obeyed, but continued to growl.
Both girls stood up, wary.
He nudged Maris forward. “Good afternoon, ladies.”
The golden one squinted at him, not as one would squint into the sunlight, but like someone who could not see into the distance. Her nearsightedness disarmed him, for it made her vulnerable and, to his mind, in need of protection.
The young one stepped forward, thrusting a pugnacious chin his way. “Was that you whistling?”
“Indeed it was.” Even as a boy, he’d had the gift of mimicry.
“What do you want here?”
Ah, an alert protector, not amused by his talents. She’d been taught well. The mutt continued to growl. The golden one continued to squint. “I’m looking for the sheriff.”
“Well, you won’t find him here,” the young one announced, a hard edge to her voice.
He chuckled. “Of course not. I’m on my way to Thief River. I’m going in the right direction, aren’t I?”
The golden one gently tugged the young one toward her, trying to put the girl safely behind her. “Why don’t you use the road? Most people do.” There was a hint of sarcasm in her tone. She had fire. He liked that.
“Ah, the road. Roads are so boring, don’t you think? I, like you, much prefer the woods.”
Both women appeared startled, and he hastened to reassure them. “I don’t mean to frighten you, ladies. Actually, I’m looking for a man who is acting sheriff. Perhaps you can tell me how I can find him. His name is Jackson Wolfe.”
Recognition flared in the young one’s dark eyes. “Who are you, and why are you looking for him?”
Spunky little thing, he decided. “How ungentlemanly of me.” He tipped his hat. “My name is Corey Wolfe. I’m looking for my long-lost brother.”
The young one’s eyes widened as she continued to stare. “You’re Mr. Wolfe’s brother?”
He gave her a dazzling smile. “You’ve heard of him, then?”
She appeared to have trouble swallowing. “He … he’s staying at my mama’s rooming house. But … but he’s at the jail now. Or he should be soon.”
His gaze settled on the golden one, who watched him like a vigilant feline. A myopic vigilant feline. She was delicate and sweet. And he’d been lamenting his inability to find the perfect woman all of his young life.
“Try the jail.” The young one pointed toward the road. “That way.”
He tipped his hat again. “Good afternoon, ladies. I hope we’ll meet again,” he added as he rode away, mimicking the bubbling sounds of the meadowlark.
Jackson returned to the jail. The deputy hadn’t made an appearance in days, Jackson was beginning to wonder just how much help the young fellow would be. Engrossed in paperwork when the jail door opened, he didn’t look up. “About time you showed up. Where in the hell have you been?” He turned to file a stack of papers in the drawer, barely glancing at the door.
“I don’t believe it. I heard it with my own ears, but I didn’t believe it. Jackson Wolfe a lawman?”
It wasn’t the deputy. The voice was filled with good humor and a certain familiarity. Jackson glanced up. Standing before him was a tall, tightly muscled young man whose tawny hair fell in unruly waves around his ears. His heart thumped hard. “Corey?”
With a nod of his head, his brother grinned at him, his eyes brimming. “God dang it, I still don’t believe it’s you.”
Jackson came around his desk and pulled his brother into a bear hug. Though Corey was leaner, they were the same height. “Christ,” Jackson murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “you’re all grown up.”
Corey pounded him on the back. “Mother’ll think she’s died and gone to heaven when she learns you’re home.”
They pulled apart and studied each other, eyes shining, grinning like fools.
“How did you know I was here?”
Corey refused to release him. “Vern sent Pa a wire. I intercepted it. Thought it best to find out for myself before throwing both him and Ma into a tizzy.”
“That’s Vern for you. Sticking his nose into business that doesn’t concern him.” Strangely, Jackson wasn’t angry. He’d put off wiring them himself only because he didn’t know how to begin to repair all the damage he’d done. “So they don’t know I’m back?”
Corey studied him, continuing to shake his head in disbelief. “Why didn’t you let us know you were home?”
Jackson let out a whoosh of air and ran his fingers through his hair. “I had something to settle before I did.”
“And is it settled?”
Jackson turned away, remembering Libby’s claim on his daughter. “Not completely.”
“Jackson, if they find out you’re home from someone other than you, they’ll be devastated.”
A wealth of emotions clamored through him. “How are they?”
“They’re fine. They grieved for you, you know.”
Jackson muttered a curse. “I don’t have to hear that.”
“I think you do. It’s like you died, and they never got the chance to bury the body. Why in the hell did you leave the way you did?”
He cursed again. “At the time I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want to run the ranch, Corey. That was all. Can you believe it? It was all because I didn’t want to run the damned ranch.”
Corey continued to study him. “There was more to it than that, wasn’t there?”
Jackson’s pulse leaped. “What makes you think that?”
Corey settled comfortably into a chair and scratched his smoothly shaven chin. “I’ve been gnawing on that for a long time, brother.” He shook his head. “You weren’t that shallow. You wouldn’t have fled the country in search of something elusive if you’d just hated ranching. No, I figure there was something more to it.” He slanted his brother a glance. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I can’t.”
“Didn’t think so. What was it? A woman? You went back to the Indian village, didn’t you?”
Jackson drew a hefty breath, then expelled it noisily. “She was killed by marauding Whites. Vigilantes. I… I couldn’t bear it when she died. We had a daughter. I left the baby with my wife’s grandmother.”
Corey whistled softly through his teeth. “Why didn’t you tell the folks? They’d have helped, you know that.”
“Pride, I guess. I stopped by to do just that, but to my mind, Pa looked too busy to care about what happened to me. He had a breech calf that day, and he was so damned concerned about that animal …” His voice trailed off at the memory.
“Did you come back for the child?” At Jackson’s nod, Corey expelled a sigh of his own. “Find her?”
Another nod. “I told her who I was a few days ago.”
“What is she, about twelve?”
Jackson nodded, his expression grim. “Yeah. About twelve.”
“So what’s the problem?” Corey poured himself coffee and brought the cup to his mouth.
Jackson swung toward the window and studied the street a moment, allowing his gaze to follow a stray dog as it nosed through the dirt. Then he turned back to his brother. “She’s been adopted.”
Luckily Corey hadn’t taken a drink of his coffee. “What?”
“By the woman who runs the rooming house.”
A slow smile spread across Corey’s face. “Well, I’ll be damned. I think your daughter and I have already met.” He explained what had transpired in the woods.
“Who is the golden one?”
Jackson smirked. “Always the poet, Corey. The ‘golden one’ is the schoolmistress, Chloe Ann Parker.”
“Chloe Ann Parker.” The name came out of Corey’s mouth sounding like a chant.
Now it was Jackson’s turn to study his little brother. He was a handsome devil, his golden curls mere shades darker than he remembered. He was lean and tightly muscled, like a circus acrobat. When Jackson had left, Corey was a gangly boy of twelve, with knobby knees and a squeaky voice. Now he had to be al
most twenty-five. Thickness gathered in Jackson’s throat, and he cursed himself for missing out on so much of his brother’s life and everyone else’s.
“No woman in your life, little brother?”
“I’ve been too busy.” He winked. “Until now.”
“Doing what, may I ask?”
“I’m compiling a book on California flora and fauna.”
Jackson arched an eyebrow. “A writer in the family. Mother must be very proud.” He waited a beat. “And Father?”
Corey’s smile was grim. “I help him when I can. Actually, Kito’s boys, Abe and Ash, have been working for him for a few years. Abe is as tall as his pa and almost as strong.”
“And … and Mandy? Kate?”
Corey’s smile turned warm. “You wouldn’t recognize them. Mandy’s been away at school. She’s home now, for a short time, anyway. Ah, Jackson,” he said, his voice luxurious with awe, “she’s a beauty.”
“She’s almost twenty,” Jackson mused.
“And beating young suitors off with a stick.”
They looked at each other and grinned.
“Pa’s worried sick she’ll take up with someone he doesn’t approve of.” Corey’s grin widened.
“I’m surprised she hasn’t already. And Katie?”
“She’ll be fourteen next week, remember?”
He hadn’t. “God,” he muttered, stretching his back, “with my sisters and brother all grown up, I feel ancient.”
Corey gulped his coffee, then put the cup on the desk. “So when do I get to formally meet your daughter?”
Jackson clamped a hand on his brother’s sinewy shoulder. “You’ll come home with me. As long as Dawn Twilight knows who you are, you can bet she’s told her mother.”
Corey gave him a quizzical look. “What about this woman who adopted your daughter? Can we expect anything to happen there, or is she a toothless crone with a wart on her nose?”
Jackson gave him a mysterious smile, remembering Libby’s lush curves and sensuous mouth, her cautious pride and the fire in her dark eyes. Warm wine and sultry Spanish nights.
He steered his brother toward the door. “She’s no crone, and there’s no wart on her nose, but the most we can expect to happen is that she’s undoubtedly working on a menu plan to serve my head on a plate.”
Corey appeared fascinated. “Sounds interesting.”
In spite of himself, Jackson chuckled. “ ‘Interesting’ doesn’t begin to describe it.”
11
Libby had watched Dawn’s transformation. She’d come flying into the kitchen from the woods, nearly skidding to a stop, to announce that she’d seen Jackson’s brother and that he could whistle like a bird and had yellow hair and a beautiful horse. Now, with everyone seated around the dinner table, Dawn had become a mute. Her eyes darted toward her father, then across the table to her uncle, and Libby noticed that not only had she not spoken a word, she hadn’t touched her food.
It was a tense meal to look forward to for Libby as well. For some inane reason she wanted to make a good impression on Jackson’s brother, so had taken pains to choose the right dress for dinner and had even put the Spanish combs in her hair that Sean had bought her after their wedding.
If Corey Wolfe’s look was one of interest, Jackson’s was one of fire. Lord, she hadn’t meant to dress for him. Her intention hadn’t been to seduce, for pity’s sake. She merely wanted Corey Wolfe to know that she was someone to be reckoned with in this battle for Dawn’s affections.
Bert and Burl ate nonstop and spoke little, which wasn’t that unusual, for they never liked to mix food and conversation. However, Libby noted with a sinking feeling, they took everything in just the same. No doubt tomorrow they would sit on the porch and discuss every detail of this meal in their own inimitable way.
Chloe Ann appeared to be the focus of Corey’s attention, although Libby noticed he never ignored Dawn in favor of the schoolmistress. Chloe Ann blushed throughout the entire dinner.
Mahalia served them, making noises in her throat which, fortunately, only Libby understood. They translated to “This is an interestin’ situation we’ve got here, Libby. How’re we gonna handle it?”
Later that evening, Libby found Dawn in the parlor with Jackson and Corey. They had her full attention, regaling her with stories of their boyhood. Stories of their sisters, their friends, their parents. The get-togethers they had enjoyed, the parties they’d attended, the traditions they had delighted in as children.
An emotion Libby was reluctant to name climbed up her throat, leaving a bad taste in her mouth. Plainly, she knew it was jealousy. And fear. A whole lot of fear.
She stepped into the room. “Dawn, it’s time for bed.” Whatever she did, she couldn’t let her daughter see what she was feeling.
Dawn bade the men good night and was quiet as she and Libby climbed the stairs to her room. Yet Libby noticed that she nearly vibrated with unleashed energy.
“I wonder if you’ll be able to sleep,” Libby pondered.
Dawn turned her shiny dark eyes on her mother. “I don’t think I can, Mama. It’s all so exciting.” She giggled, then pressed a hand to her mouth.
Libby touched her stomach, in which her supper churned.
“Do you want to talk about it?” The last thing Libby wanted to hear about was Jackson’s wonderful family, but she hid her somber mood.
“Oh, Mama, they’re gonna have a big party for me! Uncle Corey said so, even though no one knows about me but him. He said everyone would love me. He already loves me, and he only just met me! Isn’t it exciting, Mama? Isn’t it?”
She had never seen Dawn this euphoric, this filled with joy and happiness. It depressed Libby further. “Very exciting, dear. But you have to get up early in the morning. You’d better think quiet thoughts.”
“I’m gonna write a story about my life,” Dawn announced.
Libby hid a smile. “It should make for exciting reading.”
With a dreamy yawn, Dawn pulled her nightgown on over her head. “It’ll start when I was a baby. About being alone, near death’s door,” she said dramatically. “Uncle Corey told me he’d help me.”
Cyclops was already under Dawn’s covers when she slid into bed, and Mumser hopped up beside her, growling at both Libby and the lump the cat made at the foot of the bed.
Libby shook her head. “Does that dog do nothing but growl?”
Dawn bent and kissed him. “He doesn’t mean anything by it, Mama.” She pulled the covers up to her chin, her gaze on Libby. “What’s wrong?”
Libby’s smile was as warm as she could muster. “Hmm?”
“You’re smiling, but your eyes are sad. What’s wrong?”
Libby sat on the bed, ignored the dog’s menacing growl, and smoothed Dawn’s hair away from her forehead. “Nothing’s wrong.”
Dawn’s eyebrows were pinched together. “Something looks wrong, Mama.”
Libby squeezed her daughter’s arm, then tickled her, making Dawn laugh. “Oh, I’m just envious of all the attention you’re getting from the two most handsome men in the house, that’s all.”
Dawn relaxed. “Papa is handsome, isn’t he?”
Libby’s stomach pitched to her knees. “Papa?”
Nodding, Dawn answered, “He said he wanted me to call him Papa, and I want to. It’s all right, isn’t it?”
Libby was dying inside. “Yes. Of course. After all, he has the right to that much, I guess.”
“What do you mean, Mama?”
Libby straightened the bedding and rose. “Nothing, dear. Now try to sleep. It’s late.” She crossed to the door.
“Mama?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“I love you.”
Libby couldn’t turn, for her eyes stung with tears. She wasn’t even sure she could speak. “I love you too, Dawn.”
Meeting Jackson in the hallway, she quickly swiped at her moist eyes with her fingers. She wanted to fly at him, pummel him with her fists, knee him in places
no lady would, but her frustration had no outlet. She’d already lost her temper with him once, and she refused to let him believe she had no control. One day her inability to express her emotions would be the death of her, because her head would probably explode.
Jackson loomed over her. His nearness sent her pulse pounding, making her angrier still.
“I wanted to say good night.”
In spite of everything, the sound of his deep baritone made her quiver. “She’s already in bed.” Her arms crossed over her chest, Libby stood in front of Dawn’s door like a jailer.
Jackson’s eyes glittered in the dim hall light. “You can’t stop the inevitable.”
“I can try,” she answered, grasping at straws.
“Don’t—”
His words were cut off by screeching and growling from Dawn’s bedroom.
Libby flung open the door. “Dawn? What’s happening?”
“It’s Mumser and Cyclops,” she wailed. “They’re fighting, Mama. Get them off my bed!”
A light came on behind her, and Libby realized that Jackson had lit the lamp. Cyclops stood on one side of Dawn, her back arched and every hair standing straight up. She was alternately screeching and growling at the dog, who barked and yipped and growled on the other side of Dawn’s quaking supine body.
“Mumser!” Jackson’s terse command made the dog quiet, but he continued to growl deep in his throat. Jackson picked him up off the bed, drawing him away from the fight.
Libby dived for Cyclops, who shimmied away and slunk out of the room, into the darkness.
Dawn’s eyes were wide and filled with tears. “They were gonna fight, Mama. How can they fight when I love them both?”
Libby rubbed her face and pressed her fingers against her eyes. “You can’t have it both ways, dear. Obviously they can’t sleep in the same bed. You’ll have to choose.”
Mumser wiggled from Jackson’s grip and leaped onto the bed, licking Dawn’s tears as they dripped down her cheeks. She gave them a watery smile and hugged the dog. “Oh, I do love Cyclops, Mama, really I do, but … but Mumser is more cuddly.”
A queasy feeling stirred inside Libby. “Is that your choice?”
Mumser snuggled beside Dawn, preparing to stay. “Can Cyclops sleep with you?”
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