An Honorable Man

by Donna Fasano

  An Honorable Man

  Black Bear Brothers Series - Book 1

  Donna Fasano

  An Honorable Man

  Copyright © 2019 by Donna Fasano

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-939000-58-3

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-939000-59-0

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  A Note From The Author

  Other Books By Donna Fasano

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  The last thing Mat Makwa needed was more trouble.

  “Looks like more trouble is just what you’re in for, though.” His murmur held a distinct quality of resigned despair as he tapped the button to end the call, set his cell phone on the desk, and then reached around to scrub at the back of his neck.

  Having just stepped into the job as sheriff of Misty Glen Reservation a few short weeks ago, he was doing all he could to unite his small staff into a team. He’d returned to the community after a long absence and now needed to spend loads of time allowing the residents to get to know him again. A law officer who didn’t have the respect and trust of the people couldn’t carry out his duties effectively.

  Not that Mat was an outsider, by any means.

  Yes, he’d left Misty Glen more than ten years ago to attend the New York City Police Academy. He’d joined the NYPD and was proud of his distinguished career. But he’d been back to visit his friends and family on the rez many times. And he was back for good now. If truth be known, he was happy about the move, as well as relieved; this job seemed to have put his haunting fear to rest.

  Oh, he was confident he could do a good job as sheriff—he’d turn his officers into a team and garner the community’s trust. He was certain of it. He only wished that confidence extended itself to his personal life. Now that was where the real trouble lay: in his personal life. Namely, his daughter Grace.

  His daughter. He still couldn’t get over the astounding turn of events that had brought this child into his life just a month and a half ago.

  When Mat thought of little girls, he imagined sugar and spice and everything nice. Sweet smiles. Frilly dresses. Ballet lessons. Butterfly kisses. Now the Great Spirit above knew Mat had no understanding whatsoever of children, but six-year-old Grace seemed to break every single label ever slapped on the female of the species. She had a rough-and-tumble attitude, an aversion to any clothing with even a hint of a ruffle, and a speak-your-mind tongue that often left him at a loss for words.

  Her wildness needed taming. And the short phone conversation he’d just had with the principal of the local elementary school only cemented the notion into his brain. It seemed his bruiser of a daughter had socked a fellow student during recess. On her first day in the first-grade class, no less.

  He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “What a way to make a first impression, Gracie.”

  After alerting the dispatcher of his plans, Mat got into his car and drove the short distance to the school. He parked, cut the ignition, and walked up the sidewalk. The closer he got to the doors, the more his feeling of doom increased. When she’d called, the school principal instructed him to go directly to the classroom. The heels of his shoes echoed in the wide, empty corridor. Nerves danced a jig in his stomach. Then suddenly he nearly chuckled out loud at himself. Funny how he could face down a fugitive with a deadly weapon, yet the idea of meeting with Grace’s teacher had him shaking in his shoes.

  The woman was turned away from him when he paused at the open door, but one look at the mass of flaming curls tumbling down her back, one glimpse of the unforgettable curvy figure told him he’d already met Gracie’s teacher.

  In the line of duty.

  ~oOo~

  Just as Julie set the chalkboard eraser on the metal ledge, her skin tingled with an awareness that alerted her to someone’s presence behind her. She took a deep, steeling breath. The principal had set up this parent-teacher meeting for her. Not having spoken to Grace’s father herself, Julie had no idea if the man would be sensible about the situation or if she’d be facing an angry bull. She’d learned to expect the unexpected when it came to dealing with parents.

  Fixing a reassuring smile on her mouth, she turned. However, the sight of the police officer standing at the threshold of her classroom made her stomach turn sour. All those childhood memories of the police showing up at her house swam in her mind. Fear clawed its way out of the past, tightening the muscles in her neck, and she had trouble drawing a breath.

  The man’s shoulders were massive and he seemed to fill the doorway. The scariest thing about this moment, she realized, was that she recognized this man as the law officer who had lectured her brother soundly for shoplifting a candy bar just last week.

  Thank heavens she’d been in the store with Brian at the time. She’d been in such a rush to pay for the candy her brother had slipped into his pocket that she’d spilled the entire contents of her purse on the wide wooden countertop. Keys, cell phone, change, credit cards, ink pen, a tube of lip gloss had all scattered, bouncing and tumbling out of reach.

  The fact that Brian had done such a thing had been bad enough. But when the policeman arrived, she’d gone all shaky inside. She’d never been so embarrassed in her life. She’d been truly grateful that the store owner hadn’t pressed charges. And she’d been just as thankful that the officer had taken Brian aside and given him an earful about taking things that didn’t belong to him.

  Her knees went as wobbly as warm rubber.

  “What’s he done now?” Trepidation made her voice raspy, and she barely made it to her chair in one piece. It felt as if all her joints had turned to rusty hinges from which the pins had been pulled. She was so glad the chair was already pulled out as she sank into it. “It must be bad if you’re coming to find me at school.”

  The officer’s dark mahogany gaze, so prevalent among the Native Americans here on the reservation, went soft with compassion.

  “Hold on a second.” He lifted his hand, palm outward, to her. “I’m not here on business.” Then his brow puckered and he became obviously flustered. “Well… I am here on business but… what I mean is…”

  Mild frustration twisted his features rather comically, and if Julie hadn’t been so upset by the sight of him she’d have smiled. Fear for her brother prevailed.

  “I’m not here on police business,” he rushed to add.

  Julie blinked, her lips forming a silent oh, and she nodded. She let out her breath, realizing suddenly that she’d been holding it.

  “So if you’re not here about Brian, Officer—” her voice remai
ned scratchy “—I’m afraid I’m confused. What can I do for you?” Glancing at her wristwatch, she said, “I don’t have much time to give you right now. You see, I’m expecting a parent—”

  “I’m the expectant parent.” He shook his head when he realized what he’d said. Tipping up his chin, he tried again, “I’m the expecting parent.” The sigh he heaved was filled to the brim with aggravation. “I’m the parent you’re expecting.”

  Relief flooded through her during his verbal stumbling. She wanted to laugh at the comical images his explanation had stirred in her head. However, in the same instant, she became acutely cognizant of how flustered he was. It seemed their having met before had thrown them both off kilter.

  He chuckled, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. “I’m not a complete and utter idiot, I assure you. And I do have a full working knowledge of the English language. I’m just a little nervous about…” He let the rest of his sentence fade.

  She realized then that it wasn’t seeing her again that had him in such a tizzy, it was the occasion. The parent-teacher conference.

  “You’re Grace Rigby’s father.” She offered him a lopsided smile as the pieces finally fell into place. She stood and moved toward him.

  Now that the situation had become less tangled, she felt it was her obligation to gather her wits about her and put on a professional face.

  “Yes.” He seemed relieved to have his identity straightened out. “And I want you to know right off I don’t condone hitting. I apologize for Grace’s behavior.” He looked around the classroom. “Where is she, by the way? I thought she’d be here. I’m more than happy to show her that you and I are a united front against this kind of behavior.”

  Julie felt her tension ease. Too often parents were unwilling to admit when their children were in the wrong, but this was one parent she wasn’t going to have to argue with about the meaning of proper conduct.

  “Grace is with Principal Hailey,” she told him. “I thought, since we didn’t get a chance to meet before school started, that today would be a good time for us to sit and chat.”

  He nodded. “Well, just so you know, my daughter’s going to hear plenty from me about this.”

  She smiled. “I think Grace realizes her mistake.”

  Sunlight streamed through the window, glinting off his badge. She thought it ironic that just last week this man had reprimanded her brother and today she’d corrected his daughter. The idea felt a little uncomfortable, as if she and he were too involved in each other’s personal lives.

  But that’s silly, she thought. They were only doing their jobs.

  However, intuition whispered to her that this meeting, this man, would come to mean something significant to her. Stop, she silently chastised. You’ve been spending too much time reading about Kolheek mysticism.

  After two short seconds that seemed positively charged with the uneasiness that pulsed through her, she motioned to him with a wave of her hand. “Come in, Officer Rigby. Sit down. Let’s talk.”

  He removed his hat as he approached. “It’s Makwa,” he corrected. “Mat Makwa. Grace uses her mother’s last name.”

  “P-please forgive me,” she stammered. Her gaze zeroed in on the name badge pinned to his broad chest. “Sheriff Makwa,” she read aloud. “I should have remembered that from last week. I did notice in Grace’s file that the two of you use different last names. It’s not uncommon these days.”

  The only chairs available, other than her own, were built especially for pint-size, six-year-old bodies.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have a proper adult chair to offer,” she told him. “How about if we just sit on the desks?”

  She slid onto the top of the wooden desk that was closest to her. The officer—she still couldn’t get over how unsettled that uniform made her—eased down onto a neighboring desktop.

  She forced herself to smile. “I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself.” She reached her hand out to him, and when he took it, the heat of him felt pleasantly warm.

  “Julie.” Her name finally burst from her tongue. “Julie Dacey.” She pumped his hand, drawing in a huge gulp of air, hoping to calm the astonishing riot going on inside her. “I’m Grace’s teacher.”

  “Good to meet you.” He pressed his free hand against the back of hers, enveloping her in a blanket of warmth. His mouth widened with sincerity.

  Julie felt hot. Cold. Slightly panicked. If she didn’t sever contact with him soon, perspiration would surely break out across her brow. What had gotten into her?

  He released her hand, leaned back a bit and hitched his left ankle over his right knee. His fingers curled nonchalantly around his shin and Julie couldn’t help but notice the tapered length of them. An image of those fingers caressing her cheek flashed through her mind.

  She stifled her inclination to frown. Something was really wrong here. A notion as strange as that one shouldn’t be in her head. This man was the parent of one of her students.

  “Makwa. That means black bear, doesn’t it?” she asked.

  He looked surprised as he nodded. “You know the Kolheek language?”

  “Oh, just a few words, I’m afraid. But I’ve been doing some research. Since I’m teaching the children here at Misty Glen, I’d like to know more about the culture, the traditions, the language.”

  He nodded. “Our family surname was known as Black Bear Hunter. When my grandparents married, they petitioned to change the name to Makwa. The Kolheek word for hunter has five syllables and is difficult to pronounce.” He grinned. “My grandfather took pity on the English and stuck with Makwa.”

  Julie smiled in return.

  “My first name is Matoskah,” he told her.

  She liked that his chin tipped up a fraction.

  He chuckled softly. “No one calls me that but my grandfather. Everyone else calls me Mat.” He muttered, “Even Gracie, when she gets upset with me.”

  The confession had Julie wondering why a child would be allowed to call her father by his first name, regardless of her emotional state. But the question felt way too personal to ask.

  Silence settled between them, and she waited, hoping he might expound on the odd disclosure. She found herself studying his face. His eyes were a deep, rich brown, his hair as black and shiny as a crow’s wing glinting in the sunshine. His high cheekbones had a chiseled-like sharpness. The bow centering his top lip with its two perfect points was so… attractive.

  “I know that Grace missed—”

  The way his sexy mouth formed words mesmerized her.

  “—the first few days of school—”

  Just how soft might those lips be?

  “—what with the testing Principal Hailey insisted on.”

  Julie blinked. Had she totally lost her mind? Then other questions rolled through her head. Missed days? Testing? Oh, Lord. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down.

  “I do understand the need for the tests,” Sheriff Makwa continued.

  The man obviously hadn’t realized that Julie’s mind had wandered.

  “As the principal explained,” he said, “since Grace didn’t attend kindergarten last year, it was necessary to discover her skill level compared to the other students.”

  He smiled again, and even though she knew perfectly well autumn had arrived, Julie felt as if she’d been struck full in the face with the heat of the midsummer sun. She pressed her lips together and did her best to focus.

  Grace’s father continued, “I don’t mind telling you I’m happy she was placed with her peers, rather than put back with the five-year-olds.”

  Julie scrambled around in her thought processes. “W-well, Sheriff Makwa, the tests showed your daughter met all the first-grade requirements,” she explained.

  “Mat,” he said. “Please call me Mat.”

  Her smile was automatic, but her insides were chaos. “Only if you’ll call me Julie.”

  A look passed across his face, an unreadable expression that caused her spine to pri
ckle. Her reaction to this man was terribly unprofessional.

  “Even without the kindergarten experience—” she forced herself to ignore the ka-chunking of her heart, the thudding of her pulse “—Grace is on par with most of the students in the class.”

  His head bobbed slowly up and down. “I brought all this up because I’m wondering if the days she missed might have contributed to this, um… hitting incident. I’m no expert, but it seems possible to me that children form bonds quickly. And with Grace not being here with the others for the first days of classes…”

  “You’re right. Kids do connect almost instantly. They develop friendships, fashion allegiances, form hierarchies, even though they’re not really conscious of the behavior. But they’re also fickle creatures who switch alliances in the blink of an eye and sometimes for no apparent reason.” She pressed her lips together, then said, “I want you to know that, other than the recess incident, Grace did a great job today at getting along with her classmates. She’s bright, curious, and highly social. I can see she enjoys learning new things.”

  She almost went so far as to tell him that inquisitive children like his daughter were the reason most educators went into the teaching profession.

  Julie had escaped the turmoil of her childhood by trolling through the aisles of her small, local library as if they were lush woodland paths; books became the wildflowers, birds, and tiny furred creatures that infused her with awe and wonder. Each time she cracked a book’s spine, saw some glorious picture of an exotic place, discovered some new fact, she would pause, wide-eyed, and look around for someone to share it with. A love of learning had given her a deep sense of hope that no amount of real-world chaos could snuff out.

  Teaching elementary children offered her the opportunity, every single work day, to see that glint of amazement, that same love of learning. Children sucked in knowledge like sponges, and Julie reveled in her role of instilling in her students a hunger to always know more.

  “Is the boy okay?” the Sheriff asked. “The one she fought with?”