Oh, Libby thought, remembering the father’s anguish, no one had better tell her that a father could easily replace a mother, especially one who had done nothing with his life but kill people for money. That was not the sort of experience a father should have for raising a gentle daughter.
The door opened and Jackson’s lawyer entered, causing Libby’s head to spin and her stomach to churn. He sat at the end of the table between them.
“Mrs. O’Malley? I’m Daniel Green.”
Libby lifted her gaze, finding an earnest appearing man of middle age. She shoved the adoption papers toward him. “Mr. Green,” she acknowledged with a nod. “These are the papers you asked for. I have contacted an attorney of my own, but unfortunately I haven’t yet heard from him.”
He studied the documents briefly, then looked at her over the rims of his glasses. “As you know,” he began, “Mr. Wolfe has asked me to discover if he could regain custody of his daughter.”
Libby swallowed, hoping none of her turmoil showed. “I’m aware of that, Mr. Green.”
He folded the papers and placed them on the table.
“These appear to be in perfect order,” he announced.
Libby felt a wave of relief. “I knew they would be.”
Jackson’s face was unreadable.
“However …”
Bad news was always prefaced with “however.” Libby had a sinking feeling and was comforted in the knowledge that she was seated. She couldn’t fall any farther.
Daniel Green heaved a sigh. “However, in cases like this, when a natural parent shows up, the court generally finds it prudent to return the child to that natural parent.”
Libby blinked, stemming her angry, anxious, fearful tears. “Prudent? What about … what about feelings and … and love and emotions? Oh, not mine. Don’t for a minute even consider how I’m feeling.”
She shook with fury. “Men are always so logical about things. What place does logic have when it comes to human emotions? Think about Dawn, Mr. Green,” she pleaded, her anguish exposed and as painful as raw flesh. “She’s almost thirteen years old. How can you possibly find it reasonable to tear her away from everything she’s known simply because it’s prudent?”
The lawyer removed his spectacles and bit on the end of the bow. “I know it seems cruel, Mrs. O’Malley, but whatever you might think about it, it is the law.”
Libby pressed her hands over her mouth, her heart pounding, her stomach threatening to toss up her lunch. “You mean, no matter what I do or how hard I fight, the adoption can be overturned?”
Daniel Green studied her, his gaze sympathetic. “We can always go to court and have a judge decide. Perhaps that would be the best solution.”
Her panic was raw. “But … but Mr. Wolfe is an itinerant and thoughtless parent,” she said accusingly, sensing defeat but unwilling to give up. “Surely you can see that. He sent no word for the past twelve years. What kind of concern is that? Oh, Mr. Green, if you only knew under what circumstances I found her—”
“I’ve been informed, Mrs. O’Malley.”
Her mouth worked frantically. “You … you have?”
With a nod, he stood up and gathered his papers, leaving Libby’s adoption papers on the table. “You’ve done an exemplary job of raising the child, Mrs. O’Malley. Mr. Wolfe admits to that and more. However, you should know that he didn’t reject his daughter. He set out with good intentions, placing her in the care of someone he firmly believed in. He sent money regularly for her care, unaware that the money wasn’t going where it was supposed to.”
Libby had heard all of this before. To her, it didn’t matter. All of Jackson’s good intentions did nothing to dissolve the ferocious knot in her stomach. “Then, you’re saying that the only way to resolve this is to go to court?”
“I’m afraid so. Please let me know your decision.” He bade them a good day, and left them alone.
Libby’s gaze swung to Jackson. “A court battle. Exactly the sort of thing I’d hoped we could avoid.”
“It’s for you, Libby, not me. I don’t have to establish proof, but I can,” he murmured from across the table. “What’s more important is that I have proof that she’s my daughter. That’s all I need.”
There was pity in his eyes, God, how she hated that look from anyone! “You heard Dawn this morning. She … she said she wouldn’t leave me.”
“I know,” he answered. “And I’ve thought a lot about that.” He drove his fingers through his hair, then muttered something under his breath.
“Well? I hope you’ve decided she’d be better off with me,” Libby continued. “Naturally I would allow you to visit often, and I’m sure she would want to know your family. I have no problem with letting her visit them as well. But above all, I don’t want her to be put into the position of having to choose between us.” She was babbling, she knew. It kept her from taking a swing at him.
There was just one more thing she had to ask. “If you do decide to fight me and she refuses to go with you, will you force her?”
“How can you even ask such a question?” His voice was soft with disbelieving anger.
“That question keeps swimming through my head, Jackson. You might think I’m selfish, but truly, I’m concerned for Dawn, and how she will react to all of this.” Libby took a deep breath, hoping to slow the pounding of her pulse.
Fearful of his silence, she finally said, “Surely in all of your brilliance, you have a solution.”
“Yes, I have a solution.”
Interested, she studied him. His expression was guarded. Unreadable. “Well? Don’t keep me in the dark.”
“We could get married.”
Her jaw dropped and she was out of her chair, leaning on the table for support. “What?”
“It would solve everything, Libby.”
“It would solve nothing.”
His grin was sly. “Don’t tell me that, since Dawn suggested it this morning, you haven’t considered it, even for a second.”
She expelled a sharp burst of laughter. “A second is about as long as the idea deserves to be considered.”
“Well, don’t think for a minute that you can get her away from me by marrying someone else and providing a home with a mother and a father. Like that … that thief, Ethan Frost. It wouldn’t work, anyway. I’m still her legal father.”
“I have no intention of marrying Ethan or anyone else,” she shot back. “And you have no proof that Ethan took your money.” Why she was defending the man, she couldn’t say.
“So we continue to butt heads?”
It was the plot of a melodrama. If it hadn’t been so serious, she might have laughed. Two people marrying merely to hang on to a child’s love. “I need time to think about it.”
He rose. “If it helps make your decision, I can promise you that I won’t bed you … until or unless you want me to.”
Libby’s flagging spirits sagged further. Oh, great, she thought morosely, another unconsummated marriage. “That’s very … gentlemanly of you.”
“It isn’t that I wouldn’t want to—”
“Stop.” She held up her hand. “Don’t say anything you might regret, Jackson.”
An odd emotion flashed in his eyes. “Well, don’t take too long to make up your mind. I’m not a patient man.”
She glared at his retreating form, wishing he were unattractive. But his wide, hard shoulders tapered to a narrow waist and long, strong legs. The muscles of his thighs were outlined beneath his snug jeans.
Turning at the door, he sent her a questioning look. “Are you coming?”
She gathered her papers, anxious to be alone. “I’ll be along.”
When he’d gone, she went to the window and watched him stride down the street to the jail. She could do worse. But again, the question rose in her mind: what was to prevent him from growing weary of family life and taking off again?
On one hand, if he did leave, at least by marrying him she’d be there to pick up the pieces
when Dawn began to fall apart after being abandoned by him yet one more time.
On the other hand, she’d been quite happy with her life since Sean’s death. Her emotions had been carefully filed away, and until Jackson Wolfe rode into her yard, she hadn’t expected to have feelings for a man again, nor had she wanted to.
But for Libby, it all came back to Dawn, and what she would do to keep her daughter. Yes, she could do worse than marry Jackson Wolfe. He was basically good and kind. He loved their daughter passionately.
Ah, those words, “love” and “passion.” She meandered to the table and picked up her papers, shoving them into the pocket of her cape. It was silly, she knew, for even though she’d loudly professed to both Dawn and Chloe Ann that dreaming was a waste of time, Libby yearned for both love and passion in her life.
She had no doubt that if she allowed herself to, she could love a man like Jackson Wolfe. And her passions ran deep, although they were dormant, and had been forever, until he came along. She longed to unleash them, discover an excitement she’d read about but hadn’t expected to experience. But one couldn’t find passion in a one-sided relationship.
Jackson had offered marriage as a way to keep Dawn happy, Libby was aware of that. Being the sort of man he was, he couldn’t merely spirit his daughter away, knowing her feelings. And Libby was grateful for that sensitivity. What were his choices? She groaned. What were hers?
She would seriously consider his offer. Dawn was worth any price she had to pay, even if it meant tossing away her dignity. Even if it meant selling the rooming house. She’d poured her heart and soul into her business, yet it was, after all, just a business. Dawn and Dawn’s happiness were Libby’s life. Without Dawn, the business meant nothing.
Still, it wasn’t a decision she would come to quickly. Or lightly. Or without personal pain.
13
Jackson stewed, pacing the jailhouse floor. What did the woman have to think about? As Dawn Twilight’s natural father, his custody was assured. He was offering to share his daughter with Libby, and it wouldn’t be a bad life. He was eager to settle down. He knew she suspected he’d leave again, but if she dragged her feet because she didn’t want to live with him, then she ought to be grateful if he did leave, for she’d still have his daughter.
But he wasn’t leaving, and it rankled that she wasn’t more amenable to his offer. Never again would he abandon Dawn Twilight. He’d lost too much precious time as it was. And as his thirty years pressed in around him, he longed for a peaceful life, one filled with many children and a warm, willing woman.
He’d been attracted to Libby O’Malley that very first day. Who wouldn’t have been? Not only was she capable, sensible, and strong, but there was a lushness about her that she couldn’t hide, no matter how tart her tongue. Her fury at discovering who he was had only added to her passion. Pasty, passionless people neither loved nor hated. Libby O’Malley did both with a vengeance.
Jackson cursed. Ever since Corey had suggested the possibility of a union with Libby, it had been on his mind. But he’d seen the fear in her eyes. Fear of what? She wasn’t a naive little virgin, afraid of intimacy; she’d been married before. Even so, fool that he was, he’d assured her he wouldn’t touch her until she was ready—if ever.
Other than that, what more could he promise? He’d do anything to keep Dawn Twilight’s love. Why wouldn’t she?
There had been a time when he would not have given a damn about any person who stood between him and his daughter. Even though it wasn’t intentional on her part, Libby had made him see that for Dawn Twilight to be happy, she must have both of them. Now he had to convince her that getting married was the right thing to do. But that had to be done properly. He’d have to court her, and courting wasn’t an easy concept for him. Women were usually more interested in him than he was in them. It had been a long, long time since he’d had to work at it.
His thoughts continued to grind away in his mind until the door opened behind him. It hit the wall with such force that the windows rattled.
Jackson turned, finding an impatient Danel Mateo filling the doorway. “Danel, what can I do for you?”
“They done it again, Sheriff. They done it again. They poisoned another herd of my sheep.”
Grabbing his hat, Jackson ordered, “Take me there, Danel. I want to see for myself.”
They rode east, into the low hills that rolled at the foot of the mountains, into the land of lush grasses and tree-lined rivers.
“Damned s.o.b. gunnysackers,” Danel growled, his drooping black mustache twitching with anger.
Gunnysackers, as Jackson had come to learn, was the term for the marauders who, wearing old cloth sacks over their faces with holes cut out for their eyes, continued their reign of terror against the sheepmen.
As they rode onto Danel’s land, Jackson detected the faint scent of saltpeter, which he’d discovered was poisonous to sheep but not to cattle.
Danel’s wail of despair alerted Jackson to the carnage. Sheep carcasses lay everywhere. Dominic was dragging them into a pile.
Jackson dismounted and picked his way through the battlefield. Saltpeter had been spread in the path of the flock during the night, so the hungry sheep would eat it, along with the grass, in the morning.
The sheep that had been killed the day after he’d arrived in Thief River had been burned alive. Others, he learned, had eaten grain laced with strychnine. Two nights after that, a herd of sheep had been rimrocked, stampeded, and driven over a cliff.
“You gotta do something! If you don’t, I will.” The pain in Danel’s voice was shattering.
“Don’t do anything foolish, Danel.”
Dominic, nearly as tall and as thickly muscled, stepped up to Jackson. His black eyes held sparks. His jaw was clenched. “Then you do something, Sheriff. Look at this slaughter. How much more are we expected to take?”
“I’m working on it, Dom. I just don’t want either of you getting hurt or doing something you’ll regret. We’ll catch him. This has been going on a long time. As much as you want it to, it can’t be settled and put to right overnight.”
“We’re not giving you much more time, Sheriff. We’re law-abiding men, but this,” Danel said, swinging his arm wide, “is more than a man should have to take.”
Jackson would make a trip to Eureka in the next day or two to check out his idea. If that didn’t pan out, he’d ride to Sacramento and do the same. Meanwhile, he’d continue to look for someone riding a high-stepper.
As he returned to town, he tried to recall the kind of horse Ethan Frost had ridden the night he’d tossed the banker off the porch. He swore at his lapse. He’d been so intent on getting Frost out of there, he hadn’t paid any attention to his mount. But in Jackson’s mind, all threads appeared to lead to the banker. Danel Mateo and Ander Bilboa, like most of the other sheep ranchers, were strapped to the gills with mortgages and loans, and Ethan Frost held the deeds to all their land.
After finishing the evening dishes, Libby grabbed her shawl and stepped onto the porch. She loved this time of day, when her work was done and the house was quiet.
A glittering field of stars caught her eye as she glanced upward, and for a brief, foolish moment, she made a silent wish.
I wish I were adored and cherished as someone’s beloved.
A wry smile touched her lips at her fanciful thinking. Wishes and daydreams belonged to the likes of Chloe Ann and her daughter, both of whom had yet to face the hardships of life, not to pragmatic women like herself. Not to someone who had been married off to a man twice her age when she was barely into her teens. Nevertheless …
Wrapping her shawl tightly around her, she leaned against a porch pillar and gazed skyward again. She hadn’t come to a decision about Jackson’s less than enthusiastic proposal. A part of her knew it was the sensible thing to do, because it would allow her to keep Dawn, but emotionally, Libby had a difficult time with it. Yes, if Jackson got itchy feet and went away, she would be left alone with
the daughter she loved. But she couldn’t abide another man leaving her, whether it was voluntary or not.
For so many years in her life she’d felt unnecessary, extraneous. Her father had openly admitted he’d wished for another son. Her mother had been a useless ally, for as far as Libby could tell, she’d merely been a receptacle for her father’s lust, never once telling Libby she was loved or wanted.
She might appear strong on the outside, but Libby had discovered, with the appearance of Jackson Wolfe in her life, that there was a soft inner core that was vulnerable and passionately impoverished. For some reason, he’d touched that core, and Libby couldn’t bear the thought of him marrying her out of pity.
The door opened behind her, and she knew immediately who had opened it. His presence affected her physically, making her want something from him that he undoubtedly wasn’t willing to give.
He stood beside her and followed her gaze into the sky.
“ ‘She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies.’ ”
Libby’s smile was brief. “So you quote Byron. Is there any end to your list of accomplishments?”
“Hmm. Sarcasm. Here I thought I’d impress you with my poetic soul.”
He smelled good. An undefinable scent that she’d come to expect only from him. It wasn’t cologne; it wasn’t sweat. It was simply … him.
“Nice night for a stroll.”
She pulled in a breath of crisp autumn air. “Yes.”
“Care to join me?”
She slanted him a wary glance, quietly questioning his objectives.
“You’re wondering about my motives.”
The smile she heard in his voice softened her. “So you’re a poet and a mind reader, among your other talents.”
Jane Bonander Page 16