Jane Bonander (10 page)

“Well, that’s what she is” he answered with a sneer. “She’s a digger’s brat, and she’s—”

“Willie Frost, close your mouth.”

“But—”

Chloe Ann’s ruler came down hard on Willie’s knuckles. The boy yelped. “Go to the corner and stay there,” she ordered.

He glared at her but rose from his desk. “I’ll tell my pa, and he’ll have you fired.”

Chloe Ann prodded him with the ruler. “By all means,” she answered, “tell your father. I’d be delighted to talk to him once and for all. Your disrespect for others is appalling, and you’ve disrupted this classroom often enough.”

Willie tossed her a glower as he slunk toward the corner. “I don’t care what you say. She’s a breed.”

Ignoring him, Chloe Ann turned to the other boy. “It’s your basket, Danforth. You’ll be sharing the lunch with Dawn O’Malley.”

Jackson caught his daughter’s shy smile as she looked at the boy. Again, something akin to pain twisted inside him. He’d missed so much. All the years between birth and adolescence. All those years when a child learned about living, he’d missed. He hadn’t been there when she took her first step or when she spoke her first words. There were times when he didn’t think he could bear the loss of those years.

He quietly wondered if he truly deserved her, and he knew he didn’t. But he sure wasn’t going to give her up. He couldn’t, not when he’d just found her. Libby O’Malley would have to accept that.

A twinge of conscience sounded silently in his head, but he ignored it.

Libby rose to leave, Jackson followed. Once outside, he turned on her, his face etched with fury.

“What was that all about?”

“It’s what Dawn must go through every day of her life, Jackson.”

“Then why subject her to it?”

Libby crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare.

“I suppose, after witnessing this one incident, you have an alternative?”

Jackson huffed. “She could be taught at home.”

“Oh, that’s a sensible solution,” Libby answered, her voice laced with sarcasm. “She must learn to cope with reality, Jackson. After all, one day she’ll be all grown up and will go out into this cruel world. She must be armed, and her armor must be strong enough to withstand the cruelties of the Willie Frosts everywhere.”

Jackson said nothing for a long, quiet moment, then murmured, “I thought Ethan Frost was a friend of yours.”

She gave him a sidelong glance. “That doesn’t mean I condone the way he’s raising his boys.” She stepped away and plucked dried leaves off a sad-looking rosebush. Ethan was coming by after dinner tonight. She needed to talk with him. She couldn’t go on watching her child endure such bullying. Of course, she thought with a weary sigh, Ethan would probably propose again, and she would refuse. Again. No way would she tie herself to a man whose children were hooligans.

Besides, she didn’t love him. She would never marry again without love.

“I got the impression he was more than a friend,” Jackson said.

She crushed the dying rose petals in her fist. “Well, he’s not. He’s a widower with four ruffians, and I’m not the least bit interested in taking on a responsibility like that. In fact
,
I think what he really wants is a housekeeper. I already have a house to keep. I surely don’t want to keep his.”

“Does the boy pick on Dawn Twilight often?”

She ignored the pain in his voice. He needed to know the truth. “He and a few of his little bully friends have chased her after school. She comes home with rips in her stockings and bloody knees, and I know she’s fallen or been pushed. She won’t tell me what’s happened, but I know. I know.”

“Believe me, I’d—”

“You’d what?” She stopped and turned on him. “She refuses to make an issue out of it, Jackson. She’s learning to deal with these incidents herself, and although it breaks my heart, I have to let her.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. And at this moment you have no rights whatsoever.”

“I can’t go on like this,” he mumbled. “I can’t stand to watch her in so much pain.”

“And you think I can?”

He was tense beside her. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Sometimes she didn’t know how she did it, either. “Dawn is often far more mature about it than I am. My instincts are the same as yours, Jackson. I die a little inside every time she comes home hurting.”

“I’ve got to tell her who I am. I can’t stand this silence any longer. I want to become part of her life. I want to protect her from snotty little bastards like Willie Frost.”

Libby had been expecting this, but the words were like rocks weighing on her heart. She wanted to warn him, to tell him not to expect too much from Dawn’s initial reaction to the news that her father had been living with them for weeks. But Libby wasn’t sure how her daughter would react. Though she was eager for news of her “real” family, Dawn was basically a dreamer. And dreamers created fantasies, not realities.

“You don’t agree.”

Libby rubbed her neck. “I don’t honestly know what to tell you. No matter how you tell her, the truth is going to be a shock.”

After clearing the dead grass and leaves off the back porch, Jackson stepped into the kitchen. Bert Bellamy nodded at him from the table. Or maybe it was Burl. Hell, he couldn’t tell the two old coots apart.

“Evenin’, Sheriff.” The wizened man stuffed a plug of tobacco against the inside of his cheek and gave him a sly smile. “Seems someone’s tryin’ to weasel in on yer territory.”

“My territory?”

“Yep. That slick feller Ethan Frost is courtin’ Miz Liberty on the front porch. I was sittin’ there, comfy as ya please, and she shooed me out like I was a fly on butter.”

Jackson frowned. “And how do you figure that’s my territory?”

Bellamy cackled. “Ya think yer yellin’ back and forth ain’t been heard by anyone but yerselves?” At Jackson’s look of surprise, the old man continued. “So ya got yerself a daughter, have ya? Danged fine gal, that Dawn. I don’t suppose me an’ Bert is much of a threat to ya, but if ya harm one hair on that little gal’s head, actin’ sheriff or not, you’ll have to answer to us, mister.”

With a shake of his head, Jackson left the old coot alone and walked toward the front door. He heard voices on the porch.

“It’s my final offer, Libby.”

“And ‘no’ is my final answer. Oh, Ethan, why can’t we just be friends?”

Jackson noted a hint of annoyance in her voice, and for some perverse reason, he was glad.

Frost sputtered a mild curse. “Because I don’t want to be your friend, Libby. I want to be your husband.”

“And I’ve told you I will not step in and try to tame those boys of yours. They have absolutely no respect for people, and I especially resent the way they treat Dawn.”

“Oh, Libby, they’re just being boys.”

“Not that it will ever happen, let me assure you, Ethan, but suppose I accepted your proposal. I would be subjecting my daughter to harassment day and night instead of a few hours every afternoon.”

Frost made a growling sound in his throat. “Is that what this is all about? Your daughter? Hell, Libby, she isn’t even your blood.”

Jackson felt a surge of anger. He hated the bastard already, and they hadn’t even met.

The porch swing squeaked.

“Ah, come on, Libby. Don’t leave. You know what I mean.”

“Yes. Yes, I do
,
Ethan Frost, and if you think—”

“I’m sorry. I know I can be callous at times. Please sit down. I’m sorry I ruined the mood. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world, Libby. I care too much for you.”

Jackson stood in the shadows and shook his head. Yeah, he thought, but he didn’t give a shit about her half-breed daughter. Anger continued to boil in his stomach, and it took all his strength to keep from storming onto the porch and tossing the man off onto the grass.

Still, he felt like a voyeur, especially when he was drawn to the window. Libby and the banker were seated on the porch swing, the banker’s arms closing around Libby’s shoulders. Libby squirmed away. Ethan Frost followed. Their faces came dangerously close together.

Jackson froze and swallowed the knot in his throat. Ii he hadn’t known himself better, he’d have sworn he was jealous.

Suddenly a horrendous sneeze exploded from Libby’s mouth.

Frost swore and pulled away. He moved toward her again, and once again Libby sneezed loud enough to shake the windows.

When he lunged for her a third time, Jackson could hold back no longer. Springing onto the porch, he charged at Frost, grabbed the collar of his jacket, and dragged him off the swing.

Frost’s strangled gasp of surprise was offset by Libby’s cry of alarm.

“Jackson! What are you doing?”

Jackson roughly hauled Frost down the steps. “Get on your mount and get the hell out of here.”

Frost struggled under Jackson’s grip. “Get your hands off me. I’ll leave when I’m good and ready.”

In spite of his words, Frost made a quick getaway, leaving Jackson seething as he watched his retreat.

“Just what was that all about?”

Libby was at his side, the moonlight glancing off her eyes. He was surprised by the anger he saw there.

“He wouldn’t leave you alone,” Jackson murmured.

She made a sound of disbelief. “And you thought it was your duty to leap out onto the porch and save me, like the hero of a bad farce?”

He suddenly realized how foolish he must have looked.

“Well, you were sneezing. I thought you needed help.” He paused a moment, then added, “Maybe you should see the doctor.”

“Nonsense,” she said with a snort. “That’s my standard defense against his ardent pursuit.”

“You mean you did it on purpose?”

“Of course.” There was a smile in her voice. “I’m just surprised he hasn’t caught on by now. I thought he was smarter than that.”

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.

J
ackson 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?”