Always Dakota (10 page)

Matt glanced at the table already set. “I’m glad not to be alone today. That’s what really matters—not the turkey.”

His words seemed to echo her thoughts, which flustered her so much, she said the next thing that popped into her mind. “Would you like a beer before we eat?”

“Sure.”

Hands and heart trembling, she removed two cans from the refrigerator, emptied them into tall tumblers, then took him to the library. It was her father’s favorite room, and hers, too. They sat in the high-back leather chairs, on opposite sides of the brick fireplace. She’d laid a small fire earlier and lit it just before he arrived. It provided a comforting warmth…and a sensation of intimacy.

At first the silence between them was awkward. Then Matt asked her a question about a new worming product for cattle, and before she knew it, they’d talked nearly an hour. Matt seemed as delighted as she by how easily their conversation had gone.

“I don’t generally talk cattle with women,” he told her, drinking the last of his beer.

Margaret wasn’t sure what he was telling her. He seemed to be implying that he didn’t think of her as a woman, which she found downright depressing. Especially since she’d taken pains to put on a dress. A dress, panty hose, the whole nine yards. It was the same outfit she’d worn for her father’s funeral, although he wouldn’t know that, seeing he hadn’t attended the services.

“I’d better check on dinner,” she said, bolting out of her chair.

“Margaret.” He stopped her as soon as she stood. “Did I say something wrong?”

She shook her head, then decided he probably wanted the truth. “If you don’t talk cattle with other women, then what
do
you talk about?” She sat on the ottoman facing him, staring at him intently.

Her question appeared to pull him up short, and he avoided eye contact before responding. “We talk about this and that. Nothing important.”

“Oh.”

“I enjoyed our conversation if that’s what concerns you.”

The tension eased out of her shoulders. This was as good as a compliment. She blushed and looked away. “I enjoyed it, too.” At ease once more, she said, “I’ll check on dinner and get us another beer.” She reached for the empty tumblers.

“Good idea,” Matt called after her.

She wasn’t gone long and when she returned they chatted again, this time on a variety of subjects—Buffalo Valley’s past and present, the feasibility of raising bison, like Jeb McKenna did, politics, religion and western movies. The beer loosened her inhibitions, and soon they were sharing a few jokes. It felt good to laugh, and to know he considered her a friend. The only other person she felt as comfortable around was Maddy McKenna. But this was different. Better.

“Are you planning to kiss me again?” The beer had given her courage to ask what had been on her mind for weeks.

“Do you want me to?”

“Oh, yes.” She nodded eagerly. “In the worst way.”

He cast his gaze down at his beer. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

As far as she was concerned, it was a helluva great idea. “Okay, okay, maybe we should eat first, then check out how we feel afterward.”

It didn’t help her ego any to see the blatant relief on his face. His attitude was playing havoc with her theory that he’d enjoyed their kisses.

Dinner was superb. Sadie might not have approved of Margaret’s inviting Matt for Thanksgiving dinner, but that hadn’t stopped her from preparing one of the finest meals in recent memory.

“More wine?” Margaret asked.

“I’ll pour,” Matt said, reaching for the bottle of chilled chardonnay before she could.

After two beers and two glasses of wine, Margaret’s reserve slipped even further. Propping her elbows on the table, she leaned toward Matt. “I want to talk about us kissing again, all right?”

“Margaret…”

“Please. You have to understand that something like this doesn’t happen to me every day. I have questions.”

He shifted, clearly uncomfortable.

“What did you think?” she blurted.

“Think?”

“You know. How was it?”

He held his wineglass by the stem and seemed to carefully consider his response. “It was…nice.”

She couldn’t hold back a smile. “It was fabulous for me, too,” she said, trying to sound mature, striving for sophistication. At the moment she was too pleased to care whether she succeeded or not. Hot damn, but he was a looker.

A silence followed, and she guessed he didn’t know what to say next. From her father, Margaret had learned to respect silence. It didn’t always need to be filled, particularly not with chitchat or superficial comments. She let several minutes pass, watching him, enjoying his nearness.

“Do you know the first time I saw you?” she finally asked.

Matt shook his head.

“It wasn’t too long after you moved here. I was rounding up strays and I came upon you and one of our men. You were knee-deep in mud, freeing a calf and you were arguing with this hand Dad had recently hired.”

His face went tight. “I remember.”

“Neither of you realized I was watching. As I recall, he accused you of attempting to steal that calf.”

“We threw a couple of punches,” Matt said, frowning. “You were watching?”

“I was.” She picked up her wineglass. “You two really got into it.”

“We had a history.”

She’d suspected as much, and would have wagered money that the history they shared was a woman.

“You beat him in a fair fight.”

He nodded, but didn’t look especially pleased with himself. He should’ve been, she thought, seeing that he’d come out on the winning side. The other man had hit the dirt after two solid punches. As if the confrontation was irrelevant, Matt had returned to the calf and finished freeing him. His actions told her more about Matt Eilers than all the gossip she’d heard before and since.

“That hand wasn’t much of a cattleman,” Margaret muttered. “Dad fired him soon after.”

“Last I heard, he was working for a fuel distributor in Texas. I think he always liked trucks better than cattle. Not everyone’s cut out for ranch life.”

That was true enough, and perhaps Margaret should have left it there. She probably would have if not for the drinks she’d had. “I fell in love with you that day,” she confessed, “and more so every time I saw you. You might think it’s ’cause you’re handsome as sin, and that’s got something to do with it, but there’s more. You’re a good person, Matt Eilers. You don’t like people to know that—I haven’t figured out why. Deep down you’re honorable. You don’t cheat and I’ve never heard you say a bad word about anyone—not even when they deserve it.”

If Matt had seemed uncomfortable earlier, it didn’t compare to the way he responded now. He half rose from his chair, his eyes filled with dread.

“Women aren’t supposed to tell a man that, are they?” Margaret said quickly.

“Ah…”

“It’s all right,” she assured him, regretting that she’d embarrassed him, but not that he knew the truth about how she felt.

“You don’t know me,” he said. “You don’t know what I’m really like, what I’ve done….”

“I know enough.” Matt was no saint, especially when it came to women; she’d seen clear evidence of that. But, as she’d said, he had a good heart. She’d never told anyone what she’d seen that day. Not only had he freed the calf and returned it to its mother, but he’d given the man he’d beaten a hand up, too.

Matt stood and took his wineglass with him.

“I was thinking,” she began, then fortified her courage with another sip of wine, “that I’d like to marry you, Matt Eilers.”

Matt downed the rest of his wine in one giant gulp. He looked stricken, confused and utterly baffled. Margaret had never intended to propose marriage, but it’d happened and now that it had, she wasn’t sorry. If anything, she felt released from a burden.

“I think it’s time I left,” Matt announced.

“All right,” she whispered, and followed him to the kitchen door. Already he had his hat in his hand.

“Dinner was very nice.”

Certain she’d embarrassed them both enough, she didn’t say or do anything to delay his departure. It’d been a risk; she’d taken her best shot. In all likelihood, she wouldn’t see or talk to him again for a long time. That part saddened her.

“Goodbye, Matt.”

Without saying anything, he opened the door. The wind moaned and whistled and in its high-pitched rush, she heard it call her a fool. Matt bowed his head against the force of it and hurried toward his truck, parked on the far side of the yard.

Margaret stood at the window and watched as his headlights dimly illuminated the driveway.

Discouraged, she walked back into the dining room and cleared the table. Like her daddy, she was a risk taker, but usually a cautious one. Bernard had always been philosophical about the chances he took. She’d come by his believe-in-miracles-but-don’t-bet-on-them attitude naturally. Only this was one miracle she’d really wanted.

An hour later, after she’d cleaned the kitchen and soaked out her disappointment in a hot bath, she heard someone pounding on the kitchen door.

When she went to investigate, she saw it was Matt Eilers. Dressed in her thick flannel robe, she unbolted the lock and hurriedly let him in. His face was red with cold, his jaw tight.

“All right,” he said abruptly.

Not understanding, she stared at him.

He grasped her by the shoulders and brought her close. His kiss was as wild as his eyes and revealed none of the finesse she’d experienced in their earlier kisses.

“You want me for your husband?” he demanded roughly. “Fine, I’ll marry you, but you don’t have a clue what you’re getting yourself into. Not a clue.”

“Don’t be so sure,” she told him, her pulse going crazy. His dark eyes burned into hers. Reaching for his collar with both hands, she jerked his mouth back to hers and kissed him with the same urgency.

She’d waited her entire life for this man and wasn’t about to be shortchanged now. If anyone was in for a surprise, Margaret reasoned, it was going to be Matt Eilers.

Merrily had never thought of herself as an especially perceptive woman, but when it involved Axel she was almost psychic. The Monday following Thanksgiving, she found Pastor Dawson and Bob deep in conversation. They sat at a table on the far side of the restaurant, hunched together, talking quietly.

He knew.

This churchman had figured out that she’d stolen Axel. He knew she and Bob were hiding the boy from his birth parents and from the authorities. What he didn’t know was all the whys and wherefores. She doubted the circumstances made any difference to nosy do-gooders like Pastor Dawson. If he’d guessed the truth, he was sure to consider it his God-given duty to call the state police and have her arrested.

That meant she and Bob had no choice. None. They had to protect their son and Merrily was prepared to do so at any price.

Thankfully, Axel was down for his nap when Pastor Dawson finally left. Merrily could barely wait for the other man to walk out the door before she confronted Bob. Her husband still sat at the table, his hands in his hair, staring blankly at the wall.

“He knows?” She whispered the question.

Bob nodded.

“How?”

“Does it matter?”

Weak and shaky, Merrily pulled out a chair and literally fell into it. Having Axel taken away was her greatest fear. He was her son. He might not have been born from her body, but he was as much a part of her as if he had.

Bob rubbed his hands down his face, glanced at her and then looked away. Something was wrong, she could see it in his eyes.

“What?” she pleaded.

Her husband shook his head.

“Tell me!” she demanded.

Bob continued to stare at the wall. “Pastor Dawson didn’t know for sure…. He asked a few questions….”

“Yes?” she prodded.

“I told him about Axel.”

It took a moment for the implication of what he’d said to sink in. “You told him!” The anger inside her was explosive. “Why would you do such a thing?” Bob knew how dangerous that was. He’d purposely put their son at risk. She wanted to lash out at him, slug him, cause him the same kind of pain he’d caused her.

“He’d already guessed.”

“You couldn’t keep your mouth shut?”

Bob’s eyes were empty, his complexion ashen, as if he were about to be violently ill. “He knew, Merrily, he already knew. He just didn’t have proof. He asked if there was anything he could do to help. He saw the flyer, recognized Axel’s name. He didn’t threaten to turn us in….”

She started to tremble, and struggled to control the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. “What kind of questions did he ask?”

“Questions that told me he’s figured out what we’ve done. He knew you weren’t Axel’s biological mother…that I wasn’t his father.”

“But how?”

“Because of the flyer. And probably because we’ve made such an effort to keep Axel out of sight lately.”

“That’s crazy!” None of this added up to Merrily. Besides Axel had suffered with chicken pox. It was only natural that they not expose anyone else to the illness.