A commotion on the porch and the sound of Jackson’s mellow baritone caused her already nervous stomach to lurch again.
“We can’t begin to thank you for putting us up on such short notice,” Susannah Wolfe acknowledged.
“I’m glad I had the room,” Libby answered graciously.
Mrs. Wolfe hugged Dawn and kissed her temple. “I was thrilled to discover I had a granddaughter, and such a pretty one at that.”
Jackson’s stepmother sat on the settee in the parlor, Dawn’s hand clasped between both of hers. Dawn gazed up at her in awe. Again, as when she’d met Jackson’s brother, she’d become a mute.
Libby hid her hands in the folds of her skirt and clenched them into fists. Susannah Wolfe was a beautiful woman. Her hair, a rich mahogany, was youthfully lustrous. Her skin bore a smattering of freckles, and she looked years younger than she probably was. She, like Libby, was full-bosomed, and Libby decided that if she could look that good when she got to be Susannah’s age, she’d be elated. Mrs. Wolfe’s brown eyes were kind, and her smile sincere.
Though Libby tried to act normal, she continued to feel ill. “Dawn has talked of nothing but Jackson’s family since he told her who he was.” She forced a smile at her daughter, then returned her gaze to Susannah Wolfe. “She isn’t a mute, you know. Actually, this is only the second time in her life I’ve noticed that the cat had her tongue.”
Dawn flushed beneath her dusky skin and looked at her lap. “Oh, Mama …”
Katie, Jackson’s youngest sister, a pretty little blonde of perhaps fourteen, sat on the other side of Dawn. “Mama says I’m Dawn Twilight’s auntie. It seems funny because we’re almost the same age.”
The girls exchanged shy grins, and Libby experienced a heaviness that weighed on her heart.
“And I’m happy to know that she’s living so close to us, because my older sister, Mandy, is away at school,” Katie informed Libby.
“It will be nice for Dawn, too,” Libby commented. This entire situation was fine and dandy with everyone but her.
Her back was to the door, but she knew immediately the moment Jackson entered, for the faces of the other three lit up like candles on a Christmas tree.
Susannah, beaming with love and pride, lifted her hand toward her son. “I’ve been waiting twelve years to touch that face again.”
Jackson took his stepmother’s hand and kissed it, then allowed her to caress his features.
Libby continued to feel ill.
He went behind his mother, resting his hands on her shoulders. She imprisoned one between hers, occasionally touching it with her cheek.
The scene caused a hollowness in Libby’s stomach.
“Dawn Twilight,” Jackson murmured, “why don’t you take Katie to your room? I’m sure Mumser is anxious to play.”
Dawn flashed her mother a quick look, and when Libby smiled, she took Katie’s hand and they left the room, Dawn chattering about the dog, the cat, and the time they started to fight on her bed.
After the girls were gone, the silence in the room was stifling. Libby had nothing to say, but her mind was rushing like a freight train barreling along a downhill track.
Susannah broke the quiet. “You’ve done a wonderful job with her, Mrs. O’Malley. Jackson told me where you found her, and, oh, my,” she whispered, her free hand on her breast, “I don’t know what would have happened had it not been for you.”
To Libby’s ears it sounded like “Thank you very much; we’ll take over now,” but she held her tongue. “Dawn’s an easy child to care for, Mrs. Wolfe. She’s bright and loving. I haven’t done more than any mother would do.” They had to know her position. She wasn’t about to hand over her daughter without a fight.
“Please, I’ll call you Libby if you’ll call me Susannah.”
Libby forced her smile not to waver. Oh, if only the woman weren’t so nice! “Of course.”
Jackson cleared his throat, then glanced at the chime clock on the mantel. “It’s almost eight. Where are Corey and Dad?”
Susannah patted her son’s hand. “They’ll be along. You’ve become fretful, dear. Of all my children, you were always the one with the most patience.” She turned and smiled up at Jackson, who winked at her and squeezed her shoulder.
“I have patience when it suits me,” he answered, his knowing gaze resting on Libby.
Susannah gazed at her as well, and Libby had the uncomfortable feeling that everyone knew her dilemma. As for the impending reunion between father and son, Libby wasn’t sure she could sit and watch it. The first one, between Jackson and his stepmother, had been hard enough. In fact, it had been heart-wrenching. Susannah Wolfe had clung to her son, sobbing with joy. Libby’s throat had clenched up, and she’d had to rush from the room or she’d have been in tears, too.
But Libby’s pain came from the knowledge that this family had so much more to offer Dawn than she had.
Hearing footsteps on the porch, Libby rose and excused herself, anxious to get away.
She met Jackson’s father and brother in the entry.
“Libby! This is my father, Nathan Wolfe,” Corey said. “Dad, this is Liberty O’Malley, the woman who rescued your granddaughter.”
Unsure of what to expect, Libby extended her hand, only to be drawn into a gentle hug by the bear of a man.
Nathan Wolfe pulled away and looked down at her, his eyes shiny with emotion. He was an older version of his son, but Libby sensed that Jackson was a handsomer man than his father had been. Even so, it took nothing away from Nathan’s magnetism.
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “The minute I heard, I wanted to take my son out behind the barn and tan his hide, but from what I’m told, he’s now bigger than I am.”
Corey laughed. “Don’t listen to him, Libby. We got punished, all right, but he never laid a hand on us.”
How different from her own childhood, she thought, swallowing a wistful sigh. Even now she could almost feel the sting of her father’s belt on her thighs.
She attempted a smile. “The … others are in the parlor, Corey.”
He looped his arm through hers. “You’re going to join us, aren’t you?”
Flustered, she began to stammer. “Oh, I-I don’t think so. I’ll … bring you some pie and coffee, though.”
“Point me to the parlor, son. I’m anxious to lay my eyes on your wayward older brother.”
They left her in the entry. She turned down the wall lamp and was going into the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee when she heard the girls’ voices on the stairs. From the darkened doorway, she watched the scene.
“Papa!”
“Katie! I’ve missed you, girl. Come give your papa a hug.”
Katie Wolfe offered a girlish giggle. “I saw you yesterday morning, Papa.” She clattered down the stairs.
“That’s too long, my girl, too long.” He swung his daughter into his arms and gave her a noisy kiss.
Katie squealed. “Your beard, Papa! You’re giving me whisker burn!”
Dawn stood at the top of the stairs, her eyes as big and round as black buttons. Libby bit her lower lip, then pressed her fingers to her mouth. Dawn wore her emotions on her sleeve, and Libby knew that if Nathan Wolfe was reticent in any way, it would break her daughter’s heart.
The bear of a man put his daughter on the floor and gazed at the landing. “And who is this beautiful creature?”
“It’s Dawn Twilight, Papa.”
Libby couldn’t see his face, but she could imagine his expression. Dawn stood, stiff with anxiety, and graced him with a wavering smile.
“Come down here, granddaughter, and give your grandpapa a hug,” Nathan ordered, his voice gentle and his arms outstretched.
After a brief moment of hesitation, Dawn raced down the steps and flew into the man’s arms, pressing her face against his neck.
Her fists against her mouth, Libby turned and made her way into the dark kitchen. She stumbled to a chair and slumped into it. Her stomach ch
urned. She hadn’t felt so ill since she’d had the grippe.
She forced herself to stay calm, knowing it would be one of the most difficult things she’d ever have to do. A question kept running through her head: how could she possibly compete with a family like Jackson’s? Over time, there would be nothing to prevent Dawn from making the choice to live with Jackson on her own. How much more exciting for her to be part of a large, noisy, happy family than to live in a rooming house with her mother, a schoolmistress, and two crazy old coots who had been around longer than dirt.
Long after the others had gone to bed, Jackson and his father sat by the fire, talking quietly. It felt good, this peace of mind. It felt right.
“So what are your plans?” Nathan asked.
Jackson poured his father another shot of brandy but took none for himself. “I’m not sure. A few things are going on around here that, as sheriff, I have to clean up. A couple of ranchers have been losing their sheep to poison and rimrocking.”
“Could cattlemen be behind it?”
Jackson shook his head. “I don’t think so. Even the ranchers themselves don’t think so.”
Nathan scratched his stubbled jaw. “Where is the sheepmen’s land?”
“Both men own grazing land north of here. One spreads east to the Nevada border, the other west.”
“You know,” Nathan began, “I had lunch with the governor’s brother a few weeks ago, and he implied that they’re going to build a railroad line, starting at Fort Redding.”
Interested, Jackson perked up. “From Fort Redding to where?”
“I’m not sure,” his father answered. “It hasn’t been announced, as far as I know.”
“Isn’t that interesting. What do you suppose would happen around here if that line were to come through Thief River?”
“I’d say anyone with land along the track site would become very wealthy.” Nathan lifted an eyebrow at his son. “Would those sheep ranchers’ land happen to be in the way?”
Jackson smirked. “Right smack dab.”
Nathan settled deeper into the overstuffed chair. “So now you have a motive. Any suspects?”
“I’m not sure.” He studied his father. “Do you want to take a trip to the bank with me in the morning?”
Nathan shrugged. “Sure. Why?”
Not ready to voice his jumbled thoughts about the sheepmen, Jackson instead told his father about the disappearance of Dawn Twilight’s trust fund, and his suspicions about who was responsible.
“Flicker Feather was killed by vigilantes. In order to put that whole part of my life to rest, I have to find out who they were. But that’ll have to come after I’ve cleared up the problem with the sheepmen. I can’t let it rest, though, Dad. For years I felt responsible for her death.”
Nathan heaved a dark sigh and rubbed his face with his hands. “God, but I wish we’d settled things all those years ago. If we both hadn’t been so stubborn, you and Flicker Feather would have been safe with us. And we would have had the joy of watching your daughter grow up.”
Jackson nodded. “I was stubborn and muleheaded. I also felt extremely sorry for myself.” He gave his father a small grin. “Maybe I just wanted to drown myself in pity. Hell, telling you about Flicker Feather and Dawn Twilight would have solved my problems. I honestly think I wanted my grief hanging around my neck like a damned albatross.”
His father studied him, a tenderness in his eyes. “We missed so much time together.”
Jackson grinned confidently. “I’m glad we get a chance to make up for it.”
“I am too,” Nathan growled through his smile. “And what will you do when everything is cleared up?”
Jackson studied a scuff on the heel of his boot. “It all depends.”
“On the lovely woman I met earlier?”
A note of caution crept into Jackson’s voice. “What makes you say that?”
His father smiled. “Corey mentioned that you’d suggested she marry you.”
Jackson muttered a curse under his breath. “She hasn’t accepted.”
“Son, I’ve been around women a long, long time, and I can tell you right now that very few, except the desperate, will jump into marriage, no matter what the circumstances.”
“What am I going to do, then? She’s more of a mother to my daughter than I am a father to her,” he grumbled. “And Dawn Twilight won’t come with me willingly if her mother doesn’t come too.”
“It’s no longer up to you to decide,” his father said quietly. “But I have a feeling your Liberty O’Malley will come around.”
A sprout of hope. “Whatever gives you that idea?”
“Women like her are selfless, Jackson. She’ll do what’s best for the daughter you share, even if it’s not in her own best interest.”
“But I don’t want her to be reluctant. I want her to come willingly.”
“Don’t expect too much right away, son. You know, I may be an old fool, but I detected something between the two of you. I think your mother did, too.”
Jackson felt it, too, but he wasn’t ready to announce it to the world. During their flour fight in the kitchen, he’d sensed her coming out of that taut shell she’d protected herself with. His attraction to her grew, but he could still never promise to love her.
“Did you fall in love with Mother the first time you saw her?”
His father’s smile was warm. “No. I’d been sent to bring her back in for supposedly murdering her husband, remember?”
“Oh, right. And she didn’t fit the profile of a cold, calculated murderess.” Jackson laughed quietly. “I can’t imagine anyone thinking she could do such a thing.”
“It was easy to believe until I met her,” his father replied.
“Susannah had been beaten, son. Even when I began to fall in love with her, I saw such a haunted look in her eyes every time I got too close that I had to back away. And Corey, poor tike, was only three years old, yet I saw evidence of the abuse he’d received as well.”
“I don’t think Libby’s marriage was abusive, but it sure as hell wasn’t happy. Or normal.” She still hadn’t confided any of the details about her marriage, and on some level he knew he had no right to know. But he wanted to. And he hoped that at some point she would have enough faith in him to tell him. Of course, a lot had to happen between them before that would occur. In spite of everything, he felt pleasure every time he remembered that he’d been the first. And he felt a restless need to be the only man to have her.
“Your mother would be the first one to remind you that all women don’t want the same things out of life.”
Jackson was resolute. “Libby wants what’s best for Dawn Twilight, and since I have custody, what’s best is that she take me up on my offer.”
“That may be obviously what’s best for you and Dawn Twilight, but is marriage to you best for her?”
Jackson stared into the waning fire. What he’d offered Libby had been generous, and he’d meant every word. And after having her, he knew he’d want her again. And again.
The following morning Jackson and his father stopped at the bank. Ethan Frost met them. Although the banker’s manner was cool, Jackson sensed tension beneath the suave veneer. His eyes, as usual, were expressionless.
He offered both men chairs in his office.
Without preamble, Jackson asked, “Have you found my money?”
Frost’s gaze went from one to the other, and Jackson detected a brief flash of fear in his flat eyes.
“I’ve had my people searching the records, but we haven’t come up with anything, yet.” Frost’s gaze was focused somewhere between the two men. He didn’t look Jackson in the eye.
He’s lying, Jackson thought.
“It’s amazing to me that there’s no record anywhere of my daughter’s trust fund,” Jackson mused.
Frost fidgeted slightly behind his desk. “My father wasn’t quite right toward the end. The whole transaction could have been misplaced.”
Jackson bi
t back an angry retort. “He seemed fine to me when I left.”
Frost gave him a cool smile. “You didn’t know him like I did.”
“Maybe not. So let’s say you’re right. Let’s say your father completely mishandled the trust fund. So be it. No matter what happened on this end, I sent money to this bank for nearly twelve years.” He paused, pinning Frost with an icy stare of his own. “Where in the hell is it?”
“I told you. We have no record of having received any money from you. I saw your receipts and I believe you. I just can’t help you.”
Jackson fumed, but held his temper. The bad feeling he’d gotten from Frost at their first meeting intensified. Though tempted to threaten him again with the bank examiner, Jackson decided to try another tactic. “Well, I’d appreciate it if you’d continue to look into the problem.”
A flash of surprise. “Certainly, Mr. Wolfe. I’ll keep looking.”
“By the way,” Jackson began in an offhand manner, “do you hold the mortgages on most of the ranchland around here?”
There was another brief flash of fear in the banker’s eyes. “Certainly. I’m the only banker.”
Jackson gave him a wide, hungry smile. “Of course you are.”
Frost stood up and leaned across his desk. “Listen. If you’re trying to implicate me in the troubles the sheepmen are having …”
Jackson held up his hand. “I didn’t mean to imply anything, sir. I’m just curious, that’s all.”
A wariness spread over Frost’s features. “I’ve been perfectly willing to help those sheepmen out, Mr. Wolfe. I’ve extended them credit. What more can I do?”
“Yes,” Jackson answered as he moved toward the door.
“What more can you do?”
As Jackson and his father reached the door, Frost said, “I’ll keep looking for your money, Mr. Wolfe, but I wouldn’t count on us finding it.”
The two men were silent until they exited the bank.
“The bastard is lying.”
Nathan nodded. “I’ve never met the man before, but I know his type.”
Jane Bonander Page 19