Mahalia made a sound in her throat. “Yes, indeed. And unlike you and Mistah Wolfe, them two is like lovebirds. A body would think it was them that was gettin’ married instead of you two.”
Their affection for each other was evident to everyone. In some ways, Libby envied them. To fall in love without the anguish she was going through would certainly make life a lot simpler.
“They have no obstacles between them, Mahalia, and they’re very much in love.”
“I think Mistah Wolfe’s feelin’s for you go deeper than you think, honey.”
Oh, that it were true, Libby thought, swallowing a sigh. “What makes you say that?”
“I see him watchin’ you. When you come into a room, his eyes follow you like they was magnetized.”
A flutter of hope. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Which was a lie, if she thought about it. Each time they saw each other, she felt something and sensed he felt it, too. Hah! It was probably their mutual animosity. After she’d informed him they wouldn’t share a bed, he’d made it quite clear that he wouldn’t try to change her mind.
“I can’t believe you ain’t noticed, honey.”
“Mahalia, you don’t know the half of it. Just … leave it alone.”
Mahalia expelled a long, noisy sigh on her way to the door. “If you say so. I just don’t understand you white folk. Always mincin’ around, never sayin’ what you mean, expectin’ everyone to read your minds. Lordy, I don’t know how y’all get anythin’ done, much less get together long enough to have yourselves babies.”
Libby’s stomach fluttered at the mention of babies. She’d often thought about his comment regarding the possibility of her being pregnant, but she hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on it. She was too uncertain of her feelings.
“If you see Dawn, send her in, will you?”
“I guess I can do that,” Mahalia answered as she disappeared into the hallway.
Libby was brushing her hair when her daughter sprinted into the room, already dressed for the ceremony. She stopped at the dressing table, her expression rapt.
“Oh, Mama, I saw the dress, and you’re going to be so beautiful.”
“Thank you, dear.” Beautiful was not how she felt, however. “As soon as I fix my hair, you can have a seat and I’ll fix yours.” She glanced at Dawn’s thick braids. “We should do something special with it today.”
Dawn began unbraiding her hair. “With combs, maybe?”
“I should think so. And I’ll make a special coronet out of my miniature chrysanthemums.”
Libby studied her daughter in the mirror. She’d made her frock from delicate pink dotted swiss. The dress was the first grown-up gown Dawn had ever owned, although the puffy sleeves and ruffles added a youthful touch.
Libby swallowed a wistful sigh. Her little girl was growing up. Her hips had begun to fill out and her waist was tiny. When had this happened?
Dawn watched as Libby brushed her hair.
“Mama?”
Libby met her daughter’s gaze. “Yes?”
“When will I get to go visit Grandmama and Grandpapa?”
The invasion had begun, Libby realized, tugging wisps of hair from Dawn’s temples, letting them flutter about her face. From the beginning she’d felt coerced, and this was why. It wasn’t reasonable to feel so jealous. It would be different if the Wolfes were selfish and uncaring people.
“I thought your father would have that all arranged.” The words came out sounding petty, though she hadn’t meant them to. Had she?
“He said I had to ask you.”
That was some consolation. “Well, maybe Chloe Ann can help you get ahead in your schoolwork.”
“That’s what I thought,” Dawn agreed. “Miss Chloe Ann said it would be all right, as long as I was caught up before I left.”
Libby stopped a smile. “It seems you have it all figured out.”
“Papa said the two of you could take me up there, next week, maybe.”
Libby experienced an odd sensation in her stomach. “Oh, I don’t think I could leave the rooming house unattended, dear.”
“But Mahalia will be here, and Uncle Corey has offered to stay and help.”
Feeling cornered and frantic, Libby said, “How can your father leave the jail?”
“Mr. Roberts said he could come in and give the deputy a hand for a few days. Oh, Mama, please say yes!”
So Jackson had made certain there were no loopholes for her to wiggle through. “Why can’t your father take you there?”
“Because I want it to be the first thing we do as a family.”
Libby wound Dawn’s hair into a chignon, fastened it, then added a circle of pink mums. She tried to quell her panic. As reluctant as she’d been to marry the man, she hadn’t foreseen any of the stumbling blocks outside of Jackson himself. But as Dawn prattled on, she realized that her daughter expected far more of this union than she had even been willing to think about.
Her gaze went to the window; the storm hadn’t let up. Of all days for it to rain. She hated to think it was an omen, but the thought occurred to her anyway. Fortunately, she’d decided to have the ceremony in the large downstairs parlor. There would be no trudging through the mud to the church.
She finished Dawn’s hair. “There. You look absolutely gorgeous.”
Dawn stood and preened at her reflection. “Do you want me to get your dress?”
Libby’s stomach clenched. This was it. No reprieves. Unless Jackson decided to fly the coop, he would become her husband. “That would be lovely, dear.”
Dawn gave her a hug. “Oh, I’m so happy, Mama, this is the happiest day of my life. I’m going to write a story about it. But first I’m going to write in my journal.”
“That was a thoughtful gift from your uncle, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know how I got along without one” Dawn walked from the room, leaving Libby to question her sanity in going through with the charade.
She went to the window and watched the lacy filaments of the weeping willow tree sway in the wind. She and Jackson hadn’t talked about what would happen after this day. In fact, in the two weeks since she’d told him of her decision, they’d hardly spoken at all. It had been easier to avoid him than to be around him. Avoidance wasn’t entirely possible, of course, since he still took his meals at her table and slept under her roof.
More than once she’d found herself staring at the ceiling at midnight, wondering if he was asleep. Of course, even though they would be married, that part of their relationship wouldn’t change. No doubt she would still stare at the ceiling at midnight, wondering if he was sleeping.
Hearing a commotion downstairs, she left the window, tying her wrapper snugly around her. She hurried from her bedroom and raced down the stairs. Mahalia didn’t need any extra stress today.
She cringed. Bert and Burl stood at the kitchen door, guffawing so hard Libby feared one of them would choke.
“You worthless old fools,” Mahalia shrieked. “Help the girl catch them damned animals!”
Libby elbowed her way past the brothers just as Cyclops tore by, skidding on the polished floor.
“Lookit her skid!” Bert roared, slapping his knee.
Close in pursuit was a wet, dirty, muddy, stringy-looking Mumser.
Dawn squeezed past the men and raced from the room, her face pinched with panic. “Oh, Mama, I’m so sorry.” She ran after the animals, calling and scolding, in a frantic attempt to catch them.
Libby stared at Bert and Burl. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
The old coots wiped their eyes, attempting to muffle their laughter. “Sorry, Miz Liberty, but them animals is the best entertainment we’ve ever had ’round here.”
Libby gave them a scathing look, then stepped cautiously into the kitchen. Mahalia hadn’t stopped wailing. With a sinking feeling in her chest, Libby finally understood why.
Mahalia was on her hands and knees, bent over Libby’s wedding gown. She looked up, her face
filled with anguished fury. “It’s them damned animals,” she wailed. “Look what they done to your dress! Just look!” On the perfect train that Mahalia had attached to the gown were smudged, muddy paw prints.
For some reason, seeing Mahalia in such distress made Libby calm. “Don’t worry,” she said, trying to pull Mahalia to her feet.
“Don’t worry? How can I not worry? Them damned animals has ruined everythin’!”
Libby lifted the dress onto the table and studied the muddy stains. “Did you throw away the roses?”
Mahalia huffed a weary sigh. “I shoulda. They was miserable lookin’. But they’re in my room, in a box on the sewin’ table.”
Libby retrieved them, fluffed them up to revive them, then returned with needle and thread. “We’ll simply hide the stains.” She wiped off the paw prints as best she could, then arranged the roses to cover them. “Actually, the extra weight will make the train flow better, don’t you think?” She glanced at Mahalia’s harried appearance. “You’d better get dressed. I’ll finish this.”
Mahalia clucked as she waddled to her room. “How you can be so calm is beyond me, honey.”
Libby drew in a shaky sigh. “It’s beyond me, too,” she whispered to herself.
“What’s going on in here?”
His rumbling baritone startled her. “Oh, it’s… it’s nothing. The animals tracked over my gown, that’s all.”
Jackson stood at her shoulder, his nearness causing a quickening in her stomach.
“Looks like quite a mess.”
Taking a deep breath, she briefly closed her eyes and pulled in his scent. As always, it made her heady, like a glass of wine. “It will be all right.”
“You!”
Mahalia stood in the doorway, fists on ample hips. “You,” she ordered, pointing a thick finger at Jackson, “get out of here. Go on, now. You ain’t supposed to see the bride before the ceremony.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He sounded contrite, but Libby knew that if she looked at him, she would see a twinkle in his eye. He squeezed her shoulder, then left the room.
Mahalia clucked. “Don’t you two know nothin’? It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride on her weddin’ day.”
“Oh, fine,” Libby murmured, as Mahalia marched back into her room. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
As Libby watched from the doorway, Dawn walked the short distance to the fireplace, where pots of mums graced the floor. Her gaze moved to Jackson, who beamed at his daughter. He winked, and Libby could imagine Dawn’s expression, for the look on his face caused her own heart to flutter.
His earthy maleness left her weak. Suddenly, with painful clarity, she realized that she wanted to see that face every day, into eternity. And if she wasn’t given that glorious privilege, she would live the rest of her life as only half the person she could be. The realization was so shocking to her, and so painful, she feared she might stumble.
As Libby started toward him, she felt his gaze. Her heartbeat accelerated. She could hear the vows in her head.
“For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health”—those words were fine. It was “for better, for worse” that stuck in her mind, for her feelings were at war within her. He might stay and never love her. He might leave. Which was better, and which was worse?
Jackson took her arm and led her to the preacher, his touch almost possessive. She slanted him a glance, wondering if he thought she might bolt.
He gave her a lazy smile, as if reading her mind. A quickening in her stomach told her that quite possibly, if she was lucky and he learned to love her, that smile would thrill her for the rest of her life.
He glanced at her train, resplendent with fake roses. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, “Nice save.”
Libby couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps things wouldn’t be as bad as she’d thought.
But after exchanging the vows that Libby had dreaded, Jackson bent to kiss her. If she’d been the dreamer she sometimes wanted to be, the touch of his mouth against hers would have given her hope. A promise of more to come. But she’d already told him there would be nothing between them. Somewhere inside, a little voice told her she’d be sorry, but practical woman that she was, she quite successfully suppressed it. At least she hoped she had. For now, anyway.
Dawn stood between them, her arms looped through theirs as they turned toward the small group of wedding guests.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the preacher announced, smiling broadly, “I present Mr. and Mrs. Jackson Wolfe and their daughter, Dawn Twilight.”
The knot of dread in Libby’s stomach refused to loosen, and as the reception got under way, regret surfaced anew. Jackson’s family, the bane of her new existence, pressed in around her, hugging her, kissing her, and making her foolishly want what she feared she’d never have.
Ethan Frost stepped into the jail. Axel Worth was in the chair, leaning against the wall, his feet on the desk.
Funny, Ethan thought, the kid was nothing like the father. Clyde Worth had been a trusted, albeit sometimes reluctant accomplice in the days of Ethan’s vigilante raids. Although far older than Ethan, he’d taken orders without question. He’d been calm and efficient, unlike the kid, who was nervous as a squirrel and not particularly dependable. Ethan would never have taken him into his confidence if Axel hadn’t discovered what his father and Ethan had been up to all those years ago.
He strolled to the desk and took a seat across from the kid.
“Been to the wedding?” There was sarcasm in Axel’s voice. “Bet you never thought she’d be marrying anyone but you.”
Ignoring the jab, Ethan poured himself a drink. “Is Mateo ready to buckle, or do we have another go at him?”
“Most of his sheep are gone, destroyed before shearing, which means he has nothing left but a few stragglers that got away from us. He basically ain’t got the money to pay his overdue feed bills, much less his mortgage.”
“What about Bilboa?”
“Cleb’s setting another raid on him, but it might take a few days. Bilboa has over a hundred sheep hidden away in a lonely corner near the Nevada state line. He thinks we don’t know about them.”
Ethan digested this, then asked, “What’s Wolfe up to?”
Axel displayed an evil grin. “You mean your lady friend’s new husband?”
Ethan held his temper. The wedding had come as a surprise, that was for damned sure. True, he hadn’t seen much of Libby lately, but he sure as hell hadn’t expected her to get married. Oddly, she hadn’t been as receptive to him as he’d have liked. When he heard she was marrying Wolfe, he assumed it was because of the breed. Women were like that sometimes, marrying for the damnedest reasons. Why she should care so much for the girl was beyond him. After all, she wasn’t even of Libby’s own blood.
He was a little discontented having sensed a few months before that she’d begun to see through his reasons for wanting to remarry. His boys were running wild, and he had no idea how to rein them in. He loved them, but he didn’t know how to discipline them. And truth to tell, he wasn’t disappointed in Libby’s marriage to someone else, because he didn’t want that breed in the package anyway.
Still, he’d hoped to get under Libby’s skirts. More than once he’d awakened from sleep hard as a bull after dreaming of being between her thighs. Now he’d have to set his sights elsewhere. Maybe someone who wasn’t quite as quick as Libby O’Malley. Someone a little less likely to question his motives. God, but he hated living alone. And he’d invested too much time in Libby, ignoring other possibilities. He wasn’t a monster. He admired most women and loved most children. He was handsome, he knew that. Women usually gazed at him with admiration. Surely he could find a suitable one.
Then again, maybe Libby would tire of Wolfe’s brutish ways and come to regret not having taken Ethan up on his numerous offers of marriage. He frowned. He’d still have to deal with the breed, though. As often as he’d tried to be pleasant to her, she’d never smiled
at him. Never had bought into his facade. Too damned clever, for a breed.
“Surely Wolfe has learned something, with all his snooping around,” Ethan said in reply to Axel’s question. His latest meeting with the man had been disconcerting at best. Wolfe didn’t believe his claim of innocence regarding the trust fund. But the man couldn’t prove a thing. Fortunately, Ethan had destroyed all of the records. He was concerned about Wolfe, though. He knew Ethan held the paper on the ranches. Maybe he and his accomplices should lie low for a while….
“Yeah. Vera Roberts’s jaw flaps like an old woman’s. He’s got too much time on his hands.” Axel polished his gun with the tail of his shirt.
Ethan downed the liquor in his glass and poured himself another. “About what?”
Axel lifted his feet off the desk and settled into the chair. “Oh, something about the vigilantes who burned down the Indian villages some years back.”
Ethan went cold. He’d be forever sorry young Worth had learned about his alliance with his father. “What about them?”
“Seems the sheriff told Wolfe about your friendship with my pa.” He gave Ethan a sly look. “He also told him my pa was the only vigilante they’d ever been able to identify, but he suspected you.”
Maintaining control, Ethan asked, “How do know this?”
Worth shrugged. “I was waiting outside at Vern’s house to give the sheriff a message. Just happened to overhear is all.”
Angry and frustrated, Ethan clenched his jaw. Old Vera Roberts had been an easy lawman to evade—too old to give chase and too weary to care—but Wolfe was another story. If he decided to stay on, Ethan would have to play a different game. A very different game, indeed.
Ethan downed another shot of whiskey, wishing he could enjoy the bite, but his stomach clenched and began to burn. He should have known better. Straight whiskey would kill him.
He was so close to his goal, It was only a matter of time before both Bilboa and Mateo capitulated. Jackson Wolfe put a giant crimp in his plans. Something would have to be done about the newcomer.
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