Cleb clamped the cigar between His teeth, preparing to talk around it. “It’s pretty damned certain they’re going to put in a railroad line between Thief River and Fort Redding.”
For the first time in a week, Ethan felt the knots in his stomach relax. “And the ranchland between here and there is truly paved with gold.”
Cleb huffed a laugh, “In a manner of speaking.”
“We got a new sheriff, Ethan.” Axel strolled to the table and took a seat.
Ethan felt a frisson of fear, but dismissed it. “So what’s that got to do with me, kid?”
“He ain’t old and he ain’t laid up. He’s already been out to Mateo’s sniffing around.” Axel swore. “He could even tell that one of our mounts was a mare by the way she took a piss.”
Ethan tapped his index finger against the scarred table-top. His plan had begun, and he didn’t want anything to stand in the way, especially not a new lawman.
Danel Mateo was close to caving in, and he was one of the two sheep ranchers whose land Ethan coveted. Whose land lay between Thief River and Fort Redding. Whose land would be available for a song after Mateo fled, in fear of his life, soon followed by Ander Bilboa and his tow-headed brood. Since Ethan held the mortgages, both ranches would be his. Then he could sell the land to the railroad for a sweet, sweet price.
Jackson refused to let Dawn Twilight’s adoption ruin his plans. Hell, he wasn’t even sure it was legal, especially if a blood parent showed up. He had no doubt that being her natural father superseded an adoption by a stranger. And a widow woman at that.
Who was he kidding? Sure, he was still confident he could get Dawn Twilight back, but Libby O’Malley was no ordinary woman. She was far more complex than he’d imagined, and he appreciated that. That was what rankled. She wasn’t some narrow-minded, dried-up, Bible-thumping prune. She was warm and loving, generous and wise. She was a damned good mother, he’d seen that from the very first day.
It changed nothing. He was sorry she’d be hurt in all this, but that couldn’t be helped. His daughter needed him. Or maybe, he thought, his heart racing, he needed his daughter.
He planned to teach Dawn Twilight about her tribe. Tell her about her sweet, lovely mother. About the beautiful and peaceful ways of the Indian, not to mention their customs and religion. Then she could choose. At least, armed with information about her heritage, she’d have that choice and wouldn’t have to live a white life if she didn’t want to.
But he knew she probably would. And that was all right too. At least she’d know the other part of her. If he didn’t teach her, no one would. They sure as hell didn’t teach that kind of thing at a white school.
He was itching to tell her. And although he hadn’t come out and told Libby he’d wait, he would. If he was nothing else, he was a man who kept his word.
As he rode toward the jail, his thoughts shifted to Libby O’Malley once again. A jumble of emotions stampeded through him, for until now he hadn’t given much thought to the concept of mother love, that fierce, protective love of a woman for a child, the kind of love that eclipsed everything else, even a mother’s own needs.
Did Libby have it? Did she understand that by telling Dawn Twilight the truth, she would lose her?
Jackson would not have placed a sure bet on anything, but if he’d had to take a wild guess, he’d have bet Libby O’Malley’s mother love was as strong as any woman’s. She considered Dawn Twilight hers in every way.
He also sloughed off the idea of the adoption, certain that as Dawn Twilight’s natural father, he could get her back without a fight—or with one, if it came to that.
Libby felt like a criminal hiding in the alley across from the jail, but she wanted to talk to Sheriff Roberts and hoped Jackson would leave so she could. She was relieved when he finally went on an errand, accompanied by Deputy Worth. She slipped inside; Vern Roberts was there, nursing his bad knee with a bottle of whiskey.
He gave her a sheepish grin. “It’s medicinal.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Then shouldn’t it go on your knee, and not in your stomach?”
“Don’t start with me, Libby. I never much pictured you as the nagging wife type.”
Libby allowed a smile. “That’s a compliment, I guess, and I wasn’t going to say anything until you thought you had to justify your actions.”
“No, but you’d have thought it, anyway.”
Her smile widened. “So how is the knee coming along?” She studied it through his pant leg, noting it was still swollen.
“Ah, hell. I don’t think it’ll ever be good as new again. The doc tells me I’m too old to even think that it will be. I’ll prob’ly have to rely on a cane for the rest of my life.” He scrutinized her. “What’s on your mind, Libby?”
She perched on the chair beside him. “What do you know about the law?”
He snorted a laugh. “I’m a lawman, ain’t I?”
“But do you know anything about adoptions?”
“Ah,” he said with a nod of understanding. “Little Dawn. It ain’t no secret you adopted her, Libby. What’s the problem?”
She studied him for a long, quiet moment. “Did Jackson Wolfe tell you he’s Dawn’s natural father?”
Vein’s expression was incredulous. “Naw. He ain’t.”
“He is. At least he claims to be.”
“Well, I’ll be a dad-burned monkey’s uncle…”
“What I want to know is this: could he have the adoption overturned?” She didn’t want to weigh her words with her emotions, so she swallowed a comment about Jackson being an unfit, undeserving parent.
Vern scraped his fingers across his jaw. “Guess you’d have to get legal advice, Libby. And since the closest law firm is in Sacramento, that’s where you’d have to find help.”
She let out a whoosh of air and sagged into the chair. “That’s what I was afraid of. The attorney who drew up the adoption papers moved east, and I have no idea how to reach him.”
“Well, I guess you could wire just about any lawyer and get the information you want. By the way, did you know Jackson’s got family hereabouts?”
Libby’s stomach dropped. “Family? Where?”
“Up near the state line. His pa owns a big spread near Broken Jaw. Raises cattle, sheep, and horses.”
So, she thought, her stomach continuing to pitch and toss, he probably has money and can afford to fight for custody. It was also a man’s world. She swallowed the sour taste of impending defeat in her mouth. “Do you know them?”
A smile spread across Vern’s craggy features. “Sure do. His pa is an old friend of mine. Nice fellow. And his stepma is a real wonderful lady. Them kids grew up with everything a kid could ask for. Love, a good home, and plenty of teaching. If I was asked, I’d say Jackson don’t have a selfish bone in his body.”
This bit of information depressed her further. She would never intentionally wish a hard life on anyone, considering that she knew firsthand how miserable it could be, but to learn that Jackson Wolfe appeared to have everything a man could want made her furious. He’d probably always gotten what he wanted, and now he wanted her daughter and assumed it was only a matter of time before he’d get her. Over my dead body.
“ ’Course,” Vern went on, unaware of the turmoil in Libby’s head, “Jackson’s been gone a long time. Ain’t had contact with the family for twelve years or so. Why, he ain’t even told them he’s home.”
A thread of hope. “Then…then they don’t know about Dawn?”
“Can’t say as they do. Hell, I didn’t know about it, and I think his pa would’ve brought up the fact that he has a grandchild if he knew about it. He’d have scoured the countryside for her. Alerted every lawman from here to the Mexican border. Believe me, if the Wolfe family gets wind of this—and they will, sooner or later—they’ll dote on Dawn like she was a princess. Yep, damned fine people.”
Libby continued to feel sick. “And…they’re a large family?”
“Oh, yeah. Well, a cla
n, of sorts. There’s Corey, Jackson’s brother, and Mandy and Kate, his sisters. Then there’s a Negro family what’s lived near them for as long as I can remember. Damned fine blacksmith, the fellow is. Their kids grew up with Jackson. Well, he was the oldest, so all of them, black and white, followed him around like he was the Pied Piper or something.”
He stroked his chin again. “Don’t know what them kids is up to these days. Haven’t seen Nate Wolfe for nearly a year.”
Libby swallowed a dejected sigh and smiled. “Thank you, Vern, you’ve been very helpful. I’ll send a wire to the lawyer in Sacramento and see what he says.”
“It’d be a damned shame for you to lose the girl.”
Libby bristled. “I have no intention of losing her, Vern.”
“Jackson’s a fighting man, you know. Stubborn, too, just like his pa. He don’t give up on something he wants.”
From the door, Libby threw the sheriff a forced smile. “Neither do I, Vern, neither do I.”
She stepped outside, nearly colliding with Chloe Ann. “Is school out already?”
Chloe Ann fell into step beside her. “It’s past three.” She raised a package toward Libby. “I had to stop and pick up some supplies at the mercantile.” She put her hand on Libby’s arm. “What’s wrong?”
Giving her a bright smile, Libby answered, “What makes you think something is wrong?”
Chloe Ann chuckled. “I may be as blind as a bat, but I’m close enough to see those frown lines gathering between your eyes.”
With a sigh, Libby fell into step beside Chloe Ann. “Jackson Wolfe is Dawn’s natural father.” At Chloe’s gasp, Libby nodded. “My reaction was a little more expressive, I’m afraid.”
“Hmm. Broken dishes?”
“How did you know?” Libby felt the return of remorse at having destroyed the crockery and put a hole in the kitchen wall with the skillet.
“I saw the shards in the wastebasket on the back porch this morning before I left for school.”
Libby’s sigh was filled with disgust. “That…that wretched man. He comes here, slowly and carefully spins a web around all of us, then slithers in for the kill.”
“Imagine how he might feel, Libby.”
“Him? He’s feeling pretty smug, if you ask me. But I shoved the adoption papers under his nose this morning, and although he didn’t show it, he has to be worried.” She could hope.
“I don’t know…” Chloe Ann’s voice trailed off.
“Oh, don’t tell me you think he has a chance at regaining custody,” Libby accused, suddenly feeling betrayed.
“I hope for your sake you win, Libby. You know I do. It would be so cruel for him to take Dawn away from you, but… the law is a funny thing. Not only is he her legal parent but he’s also a man. Men seem to have the upper hand in almost anything. They make the rules, you know.”
As they turned the corner, a rider galloped past, coming dangerously close to the wood-plank sidewalk.
Libby gasped and clutched her chest, her heart pounding, her ears ringing. Every time she heard the thundering of horses’ hooves, all her good sense fled. She staggered into Chloe Ann.
Chloe Ann gripped her arm. “Are you all right?”
Libby expelled a shaky breath, her knees weak. “I’m sorry. It’s foolish to be afraid of horses, but…”
“Don’t worry about it, Libby. Why, that one got my heart pounding too.” She made a disgusted sound in her throat. “You’d think it would be against the law for anyone to ride that fast in town. See? That’s what I mean. Men make the laws to suit themselves.”
As her equilibrium returned, Libby felt her confidence flag. She knew men made the rules. She knew Jackson had a good case against her, on paper at least. She knew he loved his daughter and wanted her to be with him. She knew all of those things. But she hoped that just this once they wouldn’t matter and the law would be on her side.
8
Jackson made sure he was available for his daughter as often as possible, if only to say hello. When he could spend enough time, he regaled her with stories, amused her, entertained her, and virtually gave her his dog. Which, if he truly examined the gesture, was inevitable, because the Shih Tzu adored Dawn Twilight, and Jackson knew the feeling was mutual.
As anxious as he was to start a new life with her, he dragged his feet about telling her who he was. It had finally hit him, like a rock to the head, that Dawn Twilight really considered Libby her mother and he was half afraid that she’d consider him an outsider, unworthy of her affection. Hell, for him to tell her he was her father would be harder than fighting a legion of armed Chinese thugs.
But each evening he looked forward to any time they might have together. It had been two weeks since he’d admitted to Libby who he was, and they still treated each other like enemies teetering on a fragile truce. He had to hand it to her though, for she didn’t do or say anything to lessen him in Dawn Twilight’s eyes. That was not to say she wasn’t probably thinking the worst about him. The old saying, “if looks could kill…” seemed to flow from her eyes like poison from a rattler’s fang.
On his return from the jail, he stopped in the kitchen and found it empty. Bread cooled on racks, and the aroma from the oven made his mouth water. It reminded him of home, and the nostalgia was so strong it twisted like a knife inside him.
Glancing outside, he saw the top of his daughter’s head. He pushed the door open and found her bent over something, concentrating hard. When he stepped onto the porch, she glanced up, then quickly returned to her task. But not before he saw the tears in her eyes. Something queer happened to his heart.
“Now, now. I don’t like to see a pretty little girl cry. What’s wrong?” He rarely called her Dawn, for he was afraid he’d slip and call her by her full name. He wasn’t yet prepared to answer her questions.
She sniffed. “Oh, it’s just this dumb mark on my knee.” She hiccuped, then sniffed again. “I scrub it and scrub it, but it just won’t go away.”
A shaft of memory slashed through him, weakening him.
“A mark on your knee? Do you … Would you mind if I took a look?”
With a shrug, she extended her bare leg in his direction. “I’ve had it as long as I can remember. It’s ugly,” she added, on the verge of fresh tears.
The tattoo, God, why hadn’t he remembered? Forcing himself to stay calm, he studied the raindrop-shaped mark. Memories of the day the tribal holy man had put it there gusted through him like sleet on a winter wind.
This would have been the perfect opportunity to tell her who he was. Yet he couldn’t. And it wasn’t just because Libby wasn’t around. It was because he was still a coward about Dawn Twilight’s reaction, even though he knew she’d eventually thank him for coming back. He hoped.
“Do you know the story of the raindrop clan?”
Dawn Twilight sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “N-no,” she stammered.
“It’s a very fine story. Want to hear it?”
She gave him a halfhearted shrug. “I guess so.”
He settled down next to her. “The people of the raindrop clan lived near the great ocean,” he began, his voice taking on the cadence of the tribal storytellers.
“Their days were always filled with good things. Fog shrouded their mornings, sunshine warmed their afternoons, and rain fell every night while they slept. They had the perfect world. Then, for no reason they could understand, everything changed.”
Interested, Dawn Twilight asked, “What happened?”
“One season passed, and they had no rain. The people of the clan didn’t panic, for they had experienced the passing of a dry season once before, but always before, the fog had continued to kiss their mornings.”
“But this time was different?” She drew her legs up and rested her chin on her knees.
Jackson nodded. “This time the fog didn’t greet them each morning, only the sun. And as the days grew long, and the shadows bent across the dry, parched earth, the sun c
ontinued to beat down upon them and their crops. The crops shriveled up and died. The fish, always so abundant, disliked the warmth of the water, so swam north, where the water was cooler. The animals, too, left for wetter, cooler places, many going into the mountains where rain came more often.”
“So … so the people didn’t have any food?”
“The people were starving.”
She chewed on her lower lip, her expression pensive. The mannerism was like Flicker Feather’s, and he waited for the pain, but there was only a distant memory.
“And what did they do, Mr. Wolfe?”
He ached for her to call him Papa. “An ancient holy man, so old no one remembered him ever being young, recalled the story of a beautiful maiden who lived on top of the mountain. A maiden who had special powers to speak with the spirits of the heavens.”
“Did they go to her?”
“Oh, they wanted to, but it wasn’t as simple as that. The mountain on which she lived was often an angry one, spewing dust and fire into the air. They feared its temper. They assumed the maiden was responsible for the anger. Only a special person could be sent up there safely. Unfortunately, they had no guess as to who that special person might be.”
“So who did they send?”
Jackson crossed one booted ankle over the other and leaned into the chair. “As luck would have it, the holy man sent the most handsome, most courageous brave to plead with her to intercede on the tribe’s behalf. His only flaw was his eyes. One of them was blue, like the fresh mountain springs. The other was a deep, rich brown. If the maiden didn’t approve of their choice, not only would their request for rain be refused, but they would see drought for ten more seasons.”
“And did she accept him?” Dawn Twilight’s eyes were wide, pulling Jackson in.
“Not at first,” he explained, “for it was dark when he arrived. Her first command was that he prove he was willing to sacrifice himself to save the tribe.”
Her dark brows pinched together. “He had to die?”
“He had to prove to her that he was willing,” he amended, smiling into her upturned face.
Jane Bonander Page 10
