Maureen McKade (32 page)

“Thank you.”

Matt and Libby moved past the Davises.

“What’s this about a pup?” Matt asked, his lips close to Libby’s ear.

His warm breath fanned across her neck and a delightful shiver rippled through her. “When I heard their dog had puppies, I asked Mrs. Davis if I could have one for Dylan as a Christmas present.”

“You’re going to make him one happy little boy.”

“I hope so. He deserves some happiness.”

They joined Eli. “I hear congratulations are in
order,” he said, and shook Matt’s hand. “Lenore was near busting with the news by the time I got back to town this evening. It’s about killing her to keep quiet until you make the announcement.”

“Thanks, Eli. She’ll have to hold the secret a little longer,” Matt said. “Where’d you go today?”

“Out to Flanagans’. Their youngest boy fell through the ice on the pond.”

Libby glanced at Matt and back at Eli. “Another case of pneumonia?”

The doctor shook his head. “There’s no congestion in his lungs, and only a slight fever.”

“That’s good. Had his body temperature fallen?”

“Some, but by the time I left it was normal. I told them to keep him warm and quiet for a day.”

“If you’re busy this week, I can go out and check on him,” Libby volunteered.

Eli smiled. “That’d be fine.” He peered at Matt. “You going to mind Libby coming and going to help with the sick folks?”

Matt smiled, a hint of pride in his rugged face. “Nope. I think she’ll make a right fine nurse.”

Would he be so supportive if he knew she was a doctor? Instinctively, Libby knew he would approve. She wanted to hug him. The people surrounding them restrained her impulse. She made a silent promise to properly thank him later.

“When does the program start?” Eli asked.

“In twenty minutes. I’d better go see how the children are doing.” She took a deep breath. “Wish me luck.”

Matt feathered a light kiss across her cheek. “Good luck, angel eyes.”

Heat suffused Libby’s face and she hurried away.

Half an hour later, Libby stood at the front of the classroom, watching the nativity scene played out by her students. Her stomach knotted and she forced herself to unclench her fists.

Jacob Olson, as Joseph, stuck a foot out to trip Seth, but the wise man stepped over the outstretched ankle and shot Jacob a dirty glare. Emily Windham’s angel halo slipped to the side, and hung at a ninety-degree angle for most of the play. Six-year-old Micah Sattler tripped on his robe, nearly flattening baby Jesus in the cradle. Dylan, however, performed his role as a shepherd perfectly, keeping his expression somber to match the reverence of the event.

The program ended with the children singing “Silent Night,” and applause filled the classroom. As the students bowed in unison, pride flooded Libby. Her eyes misted. She would miss teaching; the realization surprised her.

She glanced at Matt and caught his wink. She smiled back, contentment replacing her momentary sadness. She would have Matt and Dylan, and maybe God would see His way to bless them with their own children.

As parents crowded around Libby, she accepted their congratulations with heartfelt happiness. Then, excusing herself from the middle of the group, she hurried to Matt’s side. Dylan stood close to the sheriff.

A lank of hair fell across the boy’s forehead and Libby finger-combed the strands back. “You were wonderful, Dylan.”

His blue eyes sparkling, he said, “It was fun pretending to be somebody else. I’m going to go eat with Lester.” He dashed away to join the blacksmith’s son.

“I’m a little hungry myself,” Matt admitted.

“Now that the program’s over, I’m starving.”

Matt guided Libby to the tables heaped with food. They filled their plates and found a corner to sit. Libby basked in the warmth of Matt’s presence, her nerves vibrating with awareness of his masculinity. She gazed at his mouth, remembering how his lips had devoured hers, and her own insatiable appetite.

“Maybe we should get married tonight,” Matt commented.

Libby blinked. “What?”

Matt’s roguish smile crinkled the corners of his twinkling eyes. “The way you’re looking at me, I don’t know if I can wait a full week.”

Understanding dawned on Libby and her mouth quirked upward. “Who says we have to wait until we have a piece of paper?”

Matt shook his head firmly. “We’ll wait until we’re wed proper-like.”

His resistance to her offer professed his love and respect for her. She wrapped her fingers around Matt’s strong hand and squeezed it gently. “You’re right.”

She finished her meal and glanced up to see Mrs. Beidler headed their way.

“We’ve got trouble coming,” she said softly to Matt.

He looked up and swore.

Mrs. Beidler stalked toward them, her crimson hat bobbing on her bird-nest coiffure. Libby braced herself for the storm.

“I thought you’d at least have the decency to stay away from Miss O’Hanlon after all the talk, Sheriff,” the bandy-legged biddy hissed.

“The only talk there was came from you, Mrs. Beidler,” Matt said.

The stuffy woman’s red face matched her pretentious bonnet. “I never …”

“That’s right, you haven’t, Mrs. Beidler. If I choose to court Miss O’Hanlon and she agrees, I don’t think that’s any business of yours.” Matt drew Libby close to his side.

Libby encircled his waist with her arm. “I’m flattered to have Matt take an interest in me.”

Mrs. Beidler’s adam’s apple bobbed. “Now I know
you have lost all sense, Miss O’Hanlon. I will speak to my husband about your dismissal.”

Libby smiled sweetly. “No need, Mrs. Beidler. I quit.”

The older woman’s mouth dropped open, making her resemble a frog catching flies. “But you can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because—because I was going to fire you.”

Libby shrugged. “I’m sorry I spoiled your fun.”

Matt’s body shook with repressed laughter. “I’m not sorry.”

Mrs. Beidler clamped her mouth shut and spun away.

“I almost feel sorry for her,” Libby said.

Matt snorted. “Don’t. She’s never spared a drop of compassion for anyone.”

The musicians started up a toe-tapping tune.

“May I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss O’Hanlon?” Matt asked gallantly.

“I’d be honored, Sheriff Brandon.”

Matt led Libby to the middle of the room, where they joined the other couples. He danced with an ease that surprised Libby. Secure in his strong grasp, she followed his lead and relaxed. The music flowed through her, and Matt’s hand warmed her waist through the silk and petticoats. Enveloped in the cocoon of his protective arms, Libby forgot about everyone but her future husband.

She lost count of the times she and Matt danced. When the small band took a break, Matt escorted her to a chair. “I’ll get us some punch,” he said.

Libby brushed back a spiraled tress that had escaped the loose chignon at the base of her neck. She’d always hated the corkscrew curls of her fiery hair, but Matt didn’t seem to mind.

A few minutes later Matt returned with two cups of punch. Handing one to Libby, he sipped the other.

“I see the men are gathered around the other punch bowl. Did you want to join them?” she asked.

Matt shook his head. “I haven’t touched a drop of liquor in three years. I don’t see any reason to start now. Besides, I think it’s time we made our announcement.”

Libby’s stomach did a somersault, and she trembled with excitement. She stood, placing her hand on his forearm. The firm muscles beneath her fingers telegraphed strength, and she smiled up at him. “I’m more than ready.”

Matt led her to the musicians’ slight platform.

“Excuse me. Can I get everyone’s attention? I have an announcement to make,” he called out.

The room hushed, and curious gazes fell upon them. Libby struggled to remain still and not squirm like a child in church.

“I’m proud to announce, Miss O’Hanlon has agreed to become my wife,” he stated. He grasped Libby’s hand. “We’re to be married next Sunday.”

Deer Creek’s citizens surged forward to congratulate them, and Libby accepted their good wishes with a warm smile. As she glanced over the crowd, she noticed a figure shadowed in the doorway. An icy sliver of foreboding slithered down her back. The man stepped into the lanterns’ light, and Libby’s heart jerked. Shock froze the scream in her throat.

The ghost of Harrison Thompson glided toward her.

Chapter 17

A
s Libby tensed, Matt followed her unblinking gaze. The stranger he’d seen at Sadie’s approached. Libby’s freckles were stark against her white face.

“What’s wrong?” Matt asked in a low voice.

She continued to stare at the newcomer as if he were the devil himself.

“What is it?”

Libby didn’t appear to hear his question. He took hold of her arms and forced her to look at him. “Do you know him?”

Libby struggled to escape. “It can’t be. He’s dead!”

The townspeople closest to Matt and Libby stared in avid curiosity.

“What’re you talking about?” Matt demanded.

The expensively suited man broke through the throng of well-wishers. “I think she’s talking about me.”

Matt scowled at the tenderfoot. “Who the hell are you?”

“My name is Harrison Thompson, and you, sir, are holding my wife.”

Disbelieving anger infused Matt, but outwardly he remained unruffled. “All right folks, go on back to what you were doing. I’ll handle this.”

He led the too-silent Libby from the platform, motioning for the band to start up. The fiddler complied, and music masked the uncomfortable silence. Matt guided Libby and Thompson to the back room. He settled Libby in a straightback chair and turned to Thompson. “I hate to tell you this mister, but this here is Miss Libby O’Hanlon, my betrothed, not your wife.”

Thompson chuckled. “Come, come Mister—”

“Sheriff Brandon.”

“A sheriff this time.” Thompson stared down at Libby with a pitying look. “Poor woman, quite insane.”

Unease rippled down Matt’s spine. “What’re you talking about?”

“She has a somewhat sensitive problem, which I do hate to reveal, but I suppose I must.” He took a deep breath. “Elizabeth cannot be satisfied by one man.”

Libby gasped and shook her head. “That’s not true.”

Her outburst captured Matt’s attention, and he watched her as Thompson continued.

“She has taken many lovers since I married her four years ago. The latest incident was when I caught her with my foreman. I locked her in her room, hoping confinement would cure her. Four months ago she escaped and tried to kill me. While I lay unconscious, she ran away.”

Matt glanced away from Libby’s pale face. “You’re the one who’s crazy. Libby ain’t married. Now get the hell out of here, before I throw you in jail for disturbing the peace.”

“If you must toss someone into a cell, perhaps it should be your ‘Miss O’Hanlon’ for attempted murder.” Thompson’s voice cut like a razor’s edge.

“Libby couldn’t harm a fly, much less kill a man. I don’t know who you are, mister, but you sure as hell ain’t her husband.”

“Why don’t you ask Elizabeth?”

“No reason to. I know you’re lying.”

“Ask her.”

Matt looked at Libby. She stared at the man who proclaimed to be her husband with wide, fear-filled eyes. He took a step closer to her side to protect her from Thompson’s ravings. “Look Thompson or whoever the hell you are, I want you out of here. Now.”

“Are you afraid of the answer, Sheriff?”

Matt clenched his teeth and stared at Thompson a full minute. He leaned over Libby. “Libby. Libby, do you hear me?”

She blinked and turned to gaze at Matt. “I’m sorry. I ruined everything.”

Doubt flitted through him, but he thrust the emotion aside. Libby wouldn’t have lied to him. She wasn’t Rachel. He covered her trembling hand with his, and spoke softly. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. I’ll get rid of him.”

Her slender fingers curled around his wrist.

Matt turned his anger back on Thompson. “Get the hell out of here before I break you in two.”

The fancy-dressed man reached into his coat and withdrew a folded piece of paper. This is our marriage certificate. We were wed on September second, eighteen sixty-six in Ohio.”

Ohio. Libby had said she’d come from Ohio. Matt’s gaze swept across the paper, wishing Eli were there to read the words to him. He squinted at the cursive and recognized the word marriage. Uncertainty returned, but the need to believe Libby was too strong. “You could’ve picked this up anywhere.”

“But I didn’t,” Thompson said impatiently. “That woman is Elizabeth Thompson, and she is my lawful wife.”

Matt’s mind raced. Who would’ve created such an elaborate sham?

Sadie. She had staged the hoax to get back at him
and Libby for taking Dylan. “What were you doing at Sadie’s place the other night?”

The man blinked, off balance for the first time since he’d appeared. He regained his equilibrium and feigned a smile. “I had just arrived in town after a long tedious journey, and my needs were more than I wished to inflict upon Elizabeth. Surely you can understand that, Sheriff.”

Matt shook his head. “No, I don’t. Especially since you consider your so-called wife a whore.”

Thompson’s expression froze. “Despite her condition, I continue to treat her as a lady. She is the woman I married.”

“Why’d you wait two days to claim her?”

“I wasn’t certain she was here in this town. I just learned today she would be here this evening.”

“Folks usually come check with me if they’re looking for someone. Why didn’t you?”

Thompson’s face reddened and he seemed to struggle with his temper. “You are stalling, Sheriff. That woman is my wife, and I demand that you hand her over to me this instant.”

He moved toward Libby and Matt stepped between them. “Stay away from her,” he warned.

“I’m merely going to ask the question which you seem unable to.” He turned to Libby. “Are you Elizabeth Thompson?”

Libby’s haunted gaze moved to Matt and sidled away, unable to meet his eyes. Two tears rolled down her wan cheeks.

Her silence damned her more than any words she could’ve spoken. Matt’s fingers clenched into a fist, and he slammed the tabletop. Ignoring the pain that raced up his arm, he stooped over Libby, his face an inch from hers. “Why?”

Her eyelids flickered open. “I thought I’d killed him.” Libby jumped out of her chair and reached for
Matt. “I was—am—his wife, but the other things … I swear, they’re not true!”

He wanted to trust her. With trembling hands, he clasped her shoulders. “Tell me the truth, Libby. If you want to stay here with me and Dylan, we’ll find a way.”

Thompson grabbed Matt’s arm. “Take your filthy hands off my wife.”

Matt glared at the suited man. “You want to lose that hand, Thompson?”

As Matt’s unflinching gaze speared Thompson, the wealthy man released him.

Thompson turned to Libby. “You are mine, Elizabeth. And you’re coming with me.”

Libby recognized the barely controlled rage in his voice, and the familiar insanity glowing in his eyes. Terror shivered down her spine. Harrison would have no qualms killing Matt if he stood in his way.

“Do you love him?” Matt’s question drew her attention.

I hate him with every breath I take.

She loved Matt as much as she despised Harrison, and for that reason she couldn’t risk his life—but she couldn’t deceive him any further. Though her knees trembled, her gaze held steady to Matt’s probing scrutiny. “I have to leave Deer Creek because of love, Matt.”

He flinched, and the angles in his craggy face sharpened. He stared at her for a long moment, then disgust filled his features. “I hope you have many happy years together.”

Harrison’s smile oozed. “Don’t feel too badly, Sheriff. You’re not the first one she’s fooled.”

Matt spun around and barreled out of the small room like the hounds of hades were at his heels.

“You did very well, Elizabeth. You should have been an actress, superbly performing the role of loving wife,” Harrison said.

Libby could barely stand to look at him. “I hate you.”

Dylan appeared in the doorway, his step hesitant and his thin face pinched. “Miss O’Hanlon?”

Libby forced a smile to her stiff lips. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“What’s wrong? Why’d the sheriff leave?”

Libby glanced at Harrison, hiding the revulsion his appearance produced. “I’d like to speak to Dylan alone.”

Harrison eyed the boy with distaste. “I don’t see—”

“Please.” She hated to plead, but she had no choice.

“All right, but only for a minute. I wish to get back to
our
hotel room.”

He strutted out, leaving Libby swallowing the bitter gall his words wrought. She drew Dylan further into the room and knelt in front of him, taking his small hands in hers. “That man, he’s my husband. He’s come to take me back with him.”

Dylan frowned. “But you and the sheriff are going to get married, and we’re going to be a family.”

Libby shook her head, fighting tears. “I’m sorry, Dylan. I didn’t know he was still alive. If I had known, I wouldn’t have come to Deer Creek. You have to understand that if I could, I’d stay here with you and the sheriff, but I can’t.”

“Why can’t you tell that man to go back home and you stay here with us?”

“I wish it were that simple, but he’s my husband. I have to go with him.”

“What if the sheriff was your husband instead?”

“Then I’d stay here forever and ever.” Libby swept a few strands of hair from Dylan’s forehead. “But as much as we wish it, I can’t ever marry the sheriff as long as I’m already married.” She managed another smile. “But you still get to live with the sheriff, and the two of you will be a family. He loves you.”

Tears filled the boy’s eyes. “But I don’t want you to go! Please, Miss O’Hanlon, stay with us.”

Libby hugged Dylan and he wrapped his arms around her neck. “I can’t.” Her voice was thick with tears. “I’m going to miss you very much, sweetheart.”

“Isn’t this a charming picture?” Harrison’s droll tone angered Libby, but she held her temper for Dylan’s sake.

She eased the boy out of her embrace. “You be good for Lenore.”

He nodded, drawing his forearm across his eyes. “I love you, Miss O’Hanlon.”

Before Libby could reply to his unexpected declaration, he was gone.

Harrison’s thin lips twisted into a sneer. “Isn’t that the whore’s son?”

Unable to speak past the lump in her throat, Libby ignored his question and stood. She clutched the folds of her gown and raised her chin.

“It’s time we depart, Elizabeth.” Harrison guided Libby out into the classroom.

Conversations ceased and gazes swiveled in her direction, but she refused to meet the curious stares. Through a haze of misery, she donned her heavy cape.

“Is it true, honey? Is that stiff-necked dandy your husband?” Lenore asked.

Libby couldn’t ignore her trusted friend. “Yes.”

“Why?”

She clasped Lenore’s hands, tears burning in her eyes. “I thought he was dead.”

Harrison wrapped his arm around Libby’s shoulders, forcing her away from Lenore. “Come, Elizabeth.”

“We’ll talk later, honey,” Lenore said.

Nodding, Libby allowed Harrison to lead her out of the schoolhouse.

*      *      *

Dylan shrugged into his coat, not bothering to button it up. He slipped out the back door and followed Miss O’Hanlon and her husband. Dylan didn’t like the gussied-up man; he had mean snake eyes. He couldn’t understand why Miss O’Hanlon had married someone like him.

He stayed far enough behind them that he wouldn’t be caught spying. Miss O’Hanlon’s husband shoved her roughly onto the boardwalk, and Dylan nearly ran over to help her. But the man grabbed her arm and pulled her into the fancy hotel. Dylan stood outside the building for a moment, wondering how he could sneak in. Cracking open the door, he noticed the clerk had his back to him, and Dylan shot inside and up the stairs.

A door closed at the end of the hall, and he tiptoed toward it. Miss O’Hanlon’s voice inside confirmed that it was the right room. He pressed his ear against the wood and listened.

“Can you believe this is the best room in this sorry excuse for a hotel?” her husband said.

“How did you find me?” Miss O’Hanlon’s voice sounded scared.

“Pinkerton’s. You made it so simple by using your mother’s maiden name. I almost hated to pay them for such an easy task. Remove your wrap, Elizabeth.”

“No.”

Dylan could hear the man’s sigh. “It looks like I will have to remind you of your position as my wife.”

“You lay one hand on me and I’ll scream.”

Dylan’s fingers curled into tight fists. If the man hurt Miss O’Hanlon …

“I’ve waited four months. I can wait another few days,” her husband stated.

“I’m going to file for a divorce.”

The man’s laugh sounded as hateful as Dylan’s mother’s, and he shivered with terror.

“Don’t be silly, Elizabeth.” Her husband’s voice
was mean. “I’ll never let you go. You’ll pay for what you did to me the rest of your life. However long—or short—that will be.”

“You won’t get away with it. I’ll tell the sheriff and he’ll help me.”

“I doubt that. Your Sheriff Brandon won’t believe anything you tell him now. Still, perhaps you need a bit of an incentive, my dear. Perhaps—the life of the whore’s bastard?”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I would do anything to keep you, my dear. Remember this, Elizabeth: if I’m forced to kill him, his death will be on your conscience. And for good measure, I would also shoot your boorish sheriff.”

Dylan gasped and pressed his knuckles against his mouth. If the man would kill them, he would hurt Miss O’Hanlon, too.

What could he do? He had to help her.

The sheriff—he would know what to do.

Dylan scurried down the hall, his heart pounding in his chest.

“You bastard,” Libby hissed.

Harrison grabbed a handful of hair and yanked downward, forcing Libby’s head back. “I can see we’ll have to work on your manners.”

His oily gaze slid down her body, and with his free hand he opened her cape. Staring at her décolletage, his nostrils flared. He cupped her breast in his palm, twisting the nipple through the silky material.

“Let me go!” Libby cried.

He ignored her plea. “I want to know what happened between you and Sheriff Brandon.”

“Nothing you’d understand.”

Harrison raised his hand to strike her.

“Go ahead, hit me,” Libby dared. “Then try to explain the bruises on my face.”