Jane Bonander

by Warrior Heart

  As Jackson watched her escape into the house, he had the oddest sensation in his chest. He couldn’t decide if it was pleasure or relief. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

  9

  Jackson dreaded facing Ethan Frost after having tossed him off Libby’s porch the night before.

  He stepped into the bank, nodding a greeting toward the clerk he’d spoken to the previous week. “Ethan Frost in?”

  The clerk rose, crossed to a door, and knocked, then disappeared inside. He reappeared shortly, followed by Frost, who was handsomely dressed and impeccably groomed. He looked as if he repelled lint and dirt. Jackson’s dislike for the man was reaffirmed.

  Frost gave him a cold, sly smile. “Perhaps I should throw you out of here. Then we’d be even.”

  Jackson didn’t feel like apologizing. “I’ve come about my daughter’s trust fund.”

  Frost sighed and nodded toward his office. “Let’s go inside.”

  Jackson followed him and took a seat in front of the desk while Frost settled into his opulent leather chair.

  “I was sorry to hear about your father. He was a good man.”

  Nodding slightly, Frost cleared his throat. “What kind of arrangement did you say you had with the bank?”

  “Your father set up a trust fund for my daughter.” Jackson studied the son, who was so very different from the father. John had been a rumpled, apple-cheeked, elflike man with cottony white hair, a generous smile, and twinkling blue eyes. The son bore no resemblance to him. Despite his handsome features, fit posture, and gleaming bronzed hair, his eyes were flat and hard. Cold.

  Frost frowned. “Under what name would it have been?”

  Jackson drew out the leather pouch and dumped the papers onto the desk. “Under mine, of course. Jackson Wolfe. My daughter’s name is Dawn.”

  There was a brief flash of recognition in his eyes, but it was quickly masked. “Dawn O’Malley?”

  Remembering Frost’s callous remark regarding Dawn the night before, Jackson gave him a terse nod, then shoved the papers across the desk. “I have receipts for the gold I sent to this bank up until approximately five years ago. The receipts stopped coming at about the time your father died.”

  Frost studied the papers one by one, stacking them neatly on top of each other when he’d finished. “They certainly do seem to be in order.”

  Art McCann’s analysis of Ethan Frost flashed in Jackson’s mind. McCann hadn’t liked him. Jackson didn’t either, for a number of reasons. “Damn right they’re in order.” He leaned across the desk to make his point. “I was in here last week, and your clerk wasn’t able to find a trace of my account. Can you?”

  Another brief flash of discomfort. ‘Of course. I’ll certainly look into it, Mr. Wolfe.”

  “That would be smart, Mr. Frost. Otherwise I’m afraid we’ll have to get the authorities in here to find out what’s going on.”

  Frost narrowed his gaze, his jaw clenching. “There won’t be any need for that, I can assure you.”

  Jackson met his gaze. “Then maybe you’ll check into this matter now, while I’m here.”

  Frost steepled his long, thin fingers and stared at Jackson over the tops. “If you wish, although that could take some time. It would be better if—”

  “I’ve got the time.”

  Frost stood. “Yes. Well. I’ll see what I can find, but—”

  “I’ll wait right here.”

  Frost hesitated a moment before leaving Jackson alone in his office. Jackson studied the window, absently watching a pine tree flicker in the wind outside. An odd feeling in his gut told him Dawn Twilight wouldn’t see a penny of the thousands he’d set aside for her.

  Ethan mopped his face with his handkerchief, then ran a finger between his collar and his neck. He suddenly had a choking sensation, as if his collar were too tight. And his armpits prickled. Damn, but he hated to sweat. He sucked in a breath, attempting to regain control.

  So. Libby’s little half-breed was Jackson Wolfe’s daughter. Ethan felt certain he wouldn’t have touched that fund if he’d known it would get him into trouble. Hell, who was he kidding? All that money made his mouth water. He’d have wrestled the devil for it.

  After taking over the bank upon the death of his father, he’d discovered Wolfe’s trust fund simply sitting there, collecting dust. And interest, of course. Ethan hadn’t thought ahead to this moment. True, there was always the fear that someone might return and claim it, but so many years passed, and no one came. He’d felt safe; he began using the fund as his own private reserve. And he’d gambled it all away. So many times he’d been close to making a killing, to wiping out everyone else at the poker table. So many times. Now, with the railroad deal, he was close to making a killing again, and he wasn’t going to let anything or anyone stop him.

  Ethan knew that Wolfe couldn’t prove he’d embezzled the money. He would have to tell him the fund wasn’t here, but he would also have to find a way to keep Wolfe from bringing in the authorities. Ethan’s books wouldn’t bear scrutiny.

  His stomach burned. He dragged his flask from his inside jacket pocket and took a long swallow. Afterward he took in greedy gulps of air to calm himself. Somehow he had to buy time regarding the trust fund. Unfortunately, with the news of the railroad about to become public knowledge, he had little time to waste.

  The next afternoon Libby met Dawn on her return from school and ushered her into the parlor. Jackson sat in the chair by the fire, and Libby closed the door so the three of them could be alone.

  Dawn’s expression was one of puzzlement as she looked from one to the other. “What’s wrong?” She gasped, pressing her hand to her mouth. “Did something happen to Mumser?”

  “It’s nothing like that, dear.”

  Dawn frowned at her mother. “Then what is it?”

  Beneath his stubble, Jackson appeared pale.

  “Mr. Wolfe has something to tell you,” Libby began. She couldn’t imagine how he was going to get through this, much less how he would start. Already he looked about to collapse under the strain, and he hadn’t even begun.

  “Your …mother tells me you often ask about your real family. Is that right?”

  Dawn’s eyes widened. “Do you know them? Do you know who they are?”

  He flashed Libby a fearful look. “Yes. I…er… I do.”

  She ran to him, fell to her knees, and grabbed his arm.

  “Oh, please tell me something about them, please.”

  Another fear-filled glance. Libby could tell he was struggling. She had no sympathy.

  “You … you have a grandma and a grandpa who live not far from here.”

  Dawn tossed Libby a look of shocked surprise, “Did you know that, Mama?”

  Unable to speak, Libby merely shook her head.

  Dawn’s gaze returned to Jackson. “Didn’t they want me?”

  Libby’s stomach hurt; it had been roiling and convulsing ever since morning when Jackson had finally told her it was time to tell Dawn the truth. She hadn’t been able to eat all day, and her jaws ached from clenching them. Now Dawn’s emotions were in shambles, just like her own.

  “Let Mr. Wolfe finish, dear.”

  Jackson’s color had not returned. Under different circumstances Libby might have had pity on him.

  “They don’t know about you. If… if they had, they would have wanted to get to know you. You … also have two aunts and an uncle,” he added.

  Dawn’s face changed, softening some. “Oooh,” she said on a sigh. “Do you know their names?”

  His eyes appeared shiny. “Your uncle’s name is Corey. Your aunts are Mandy and Kate.”

  Dawn tossed her mother a heavenly smile, one that made Libby’s stomach convulse again.

  “Mandy and Kate,” she repeated dreamily. “And cousins? Do I have cousins, Mr. Wolfe?”

  He attempted a smile, but it wavered and was gone. “I’m not sure about that, but I don’t think so. One of your aunts, Kate, isn’t much older than you
are, though.”

  Dawn was edgy with a cautious happiness. It made Libby’s stomach clench harder.

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  Jackson ran his hand through his hair, rumpling it. “Because … I had to be sure.”

  Dawn was noticeably confused. “Sure about what?”

  “I… I had to be sure that you were my … my daughter.” The word came out choked, and he appeared to have trouble breathing.

  As if in slow motion, Dawn stood up and stepped away. “Huh?” She looked to her mother for further explanation.

  Libby put her arm around Dawn’s shoulders. “I think Mr. Wolfe is trying to tell you that he’s your father.”

  Dawn swung toward him, her hands clenched into fists.

  “My … my father? My real father?”

  Jackson smiled, a beatific expression on his face, his eyes glowing with an eager warmth. “You are my daughter. Dawn Twilight.”

  Libby could have anticipated Dawn’s reaction, but it was obvious that Jackson hadn’t.

  Dawn flung herself from her mother’s arms and edged toward-the door. Her eyes were wide with fear and apprehension. “I don’t believe you. I don’t.” She nailed Libby with a glowering stare. “Why didn’t someone tell me?” Her gaze swung to Jackson, and she glared, her throat working wildly. “What were you waiting for? Did you have to approve of me first? Did you have to wait and see if I was good enough for you?”

  She was breathing hard, her tiny chest heaving. “Why did you leave in the first place? Why did you? And … and why did you have to come back now? Oh, I hate you! I hate you!” She burst into tears and ran from the room.

  Libby felt sick; she could have predicted this. “Well!” she exclaimed, her voice laced with sarcasm. “That went rather well, don’t you think?”

  Jackson sat in the chair, stunned into silence. Finally he murmured, “I didn’t think she’d be so angry. Why is she so angry?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Libby began conversationally, “just a hunch, but maybe it’s because you came waltzing into her life after being absent for twelve years. Not only that, but you didn’t identify yourself until you’d been here a while. That might make her the teensiest bit angry and upset.”

  Seemingly unaware of her mockery, he continued to stare at the door; then he drove his fingers through his hair again. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Had Dawn not been her daughter, she might have even felt sorry for him. He truly hadn’t a clue about children and their feelings. “You’ve been living in a fantasy world. You might be a crack revolutionary, but you’re ignorant about fatherhood.” She refused to sugarcoat her words simply to make him feel better.

  He didn’t even argue with her. “I hadn’t looked at the situation from her point of view.”

  Libby strode to the window, pulled back the curtain, and glanced outside. Dawn was huddled beneath the weeping willow, Mumser clutched to her chest. “Obviously.”

  “You tried to warn me.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “How could I have done it differently?”

  Libby sighed and turned to face him. “It wouldn’t have mattered how you approached it, Jackson. As much as she’s always wanted to know about her family, she’s frightened by the truth. Before this, she used her imagination. She daydreamed about her family. It was her fantasy of what might have been. Try to imagine what she’s going through now that she’s learned she actually does have a family out there—a family that might not want her, that might not live up to the family of her dreams.”

  He leaned his head into the cushioned back of the chair and closed his eyes. “I had so many plans.”

  Libby wanted in the worst way for him to give up. Admit he couldn’t simply step in and take over. “So now you’re going to quit?” Her words were hopeful, although she knew he wouldn’t back down.

  He shook his head. “No. I can’t quit. I just don’t know how to proceed.”

  She sighed again, wishing she weren’t quite so damned honorable. As much as she wanted him gone, he was, after all, Dawn’s father. “I’ll talk to her.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I honestly didn’t know she’d be so upset.”

  Libby crossed to the door. “I know you didn’t, but no matter how many times I tried to warn you, you wouldn’t listen.” She didn’t add that because of his ignorance, he wouldn’t make a good parent, especially to a sensitive child like Dawn.

  “I suppose you have the right to know why I left in the first place.”

  Libby nearly held her breath. And waited.

  “Dawn Twilight’s mother was gunned down by vigilantes one day while she worked in her garden.”

  Libby bit into her bottom lip, moved by the words.

  “I was just a kid. Hell, we both were, but she was wise beyond her years. And I loved her. When she died, I didn’t give a damn about anything. Not revenge against her killers, not even the daughter she bore me.” He expelled a heavy sigh.

  “I had the presence of mind to set up a trust fund with John Frost, leaving it up to him to make sure Dawn Twilight and my wife’s grandmother were taken care of. That’s the kind of coward I was, Libby. I didn’t even face up to my responsibilities like a man. And the worst of it is, the trust fund seems to have disappeared. There’s no proof anywhere that I was anything but a chicken-livered coward who just up and ran away.”

  Despite her anger, Libby felt her throat clog with unshed tears. “And you merely left the country without looking back?”

  Another sigh. “I’d like to tell you differently, but that’s about the size of it. But all those years I sent money to John Frost, soothing my guilt, only to discover Dawn Twilight hasn’t seen a penny of it. That’s why it’s so important for me to become part of her life again. I’ve got a lot to make up for. You can understand that, can’t you?”

  Understand? Libby expelled a shuddery breath. Yes, she understood, but that changed nothing. She could understand his motives but she didn’t have to approve of them.

  A spasm clutched at her heart, for she felt her hold on Dawn slipping away like the ebbing tide. “I’ll talk to her” she repeated.

  Libby stepped into the circle beneath the willow branches and sat on the grass beside her daughter. “This has always been one of your favorite spots.”

  Dawn said nothing. Tears stained her cheeks, and she sniffled.

  Libby fussed with Dawn’s hair, attempting to tuck stray strands into her braid. “He had the best of intentions, you know.” God, why was she defending the man?

  Dawn pressed Mumser close; the dog wiggled to get comfortable, seeming to sense her anguish, “Why didn’t he tell me right away, Mama?”

  Her voice was filled with such pain it tore at Libby’s lungs, rendering her nearly breathless. “I think he was afraid.”

  Dawn snorted a tear-filled laugh. “He’s a big man. He’s been all over the world, fighting all sorts of bad men. He’s been shot and stabbed and beaten up. He’s not afraid of anything.”

  Libby was forced to smile. “Things that frighten big men like Mr. Wolfe would surprise us. Why, I think he was afraid of you.”

  “Afraid of me?” She was incredulous. “Why would he be afraid of me? I’m just a little girl.”

  Libby nodded. “A little girl he left twelve years ago, and for whatever reason, he feels guilty about it.” It wasn’t up to her to explain; Jackson had to do that.

  They sat in a silence that was punctuated only by Dawn’s sniffles.

  “But why didn’t he tell me?” Dawn asked again.

  “I think deep down he was afraid of your reaction, dear. How does a person go about explaining to his child that he wants to be part of her life again?”

  Mumser squirmed from Dawn’s grasp and chased a dried leaf across the grass.

  “What’s gonna happen now?”

  The odd discomfort returned to Libby’s stomach. “Nothing will change, Dawn.” Beneath the folds of her gown, she crossed her fingers.<
br />
  Dawn snuggled closer, and Libby put her arms around her. “It’s funny, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “How I’ve always wanted to know my family, and now that I have one, I’m afraid.”

  Libby studied Dawn’s face. “What are you afraid of?”

  Dawn shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s … it’s just that my stomach hurts now whenever I think about …. them. Those people I don’t even know. What if they don’t like me?”

  Libby’s throat tightened. “How can they not like you?”

  “I don’t know. If my own papa wasn’t sure he wanted me—”

  “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it. That’s not the reason he didn’t tell you who he was, Dawn.”

  Dawn expelled a watery sigh. “He knew my other mama, didn’t he? Do you think she’s alive?”

  Libby stroked Dawn’s hair. “Why don’t you ask him, dear? In my mind, no mother would have willingly given you up. And no mother who hadn’t loved her daughter very much would have given her such a beautiful name.”

  “Dawn Twilight,” she repeated. “It is pretty, isn’t it?”

  “It’s the most beautiful name I’ve ever heard,” Libby answered, and meant it. “You know, he probably has a lot to tell you.”

  Dawn raised her head and gazed at the house, her anxious expression mingled with hope. “I guess so.”

  “Why don’t you find him?”

  Dawn stood; “Things won’t really change now, will they?”

  Libby’s gaze was cautious. “Change?”

  Dawn swallowed repeatedly. “I mean, you’ll still be my mama, won’t you?”

  Libby rose and took Dawn into her arms. “You’re my daughter. I adopted you. I chose you. You will always be my daughter, and I’ll always be your mama.”

  Dawn gave her a quick hug, then sprinted toward the house.

  Libby stood beneath the weeping willow a long while after Dawn had disappeared, having come to the conclusion that the tree aptly expressed her own feelings. She knew she needed to have a good cry. She just had to make certain no one was around to see it.