Maureen McKade (26 page)

Matt studied her, his face expressionless. “Why don’t you act like other women?”

“I’m not other women.”

He cupped her cheek in his gloved hand. “No, you’re not. No other woman’s ever wound me tighter than a watch spring.”

His velvety tone wrapped around Libby and she leaned into his caress. She gazed into his veiled eyes,
and her insides twisted with now-familiar desire. The need to feel his hard body against her nearly obliterated all coherent thought. With her last thread of willpower, Libby turned away.

Disappointment flared in Matt’s features. He masked the emotion with an expression as cold as marble. “I’d better get going and take another look around the town.”

He paused in the door leading to the classroom. “You’ll be all right. He wasn’t after you.”

She trembled with fear, but not for her own safety. “Watch your back.”

From beneath his hat brim, Matt studied Libby. “I will. You keep that little derringer close by.”

“I thought you said he was after you.”

“He was, but there’s no reason to be taking chances. Stay in and lock the doors like you should’ve done last night.”

“To protect Dylan from Sadie?” Libby narrowed her eyes. “Or to protect me from you?”

“Do it,” Matt ordered and spun away.

He stomped across the puncheon floor and the door slammed behind him.

Without Matt, the school seemed unusually quiet. She slipped into the larger room, retrieved the small gun from the desk drawer, and slid the weapon into her side skirt pocket. After collecting some books, she moved back into her living area. She pressed the iron bolt into place and made sure the back door was similarly secured.

The fire’s warmth enveloped her, and she removed her coat. After refilling her coffee cup, she tried to concentrate on the work spread out on the table. A branch scraped against a window, startling her. Her heart thrummed a fast cadence. Libby’s hand crept into her pocket, her fingers wrapping around the comforting steel. After a few minutes of silence, she relaxed and resumed her lessons.

Throughout the evening, she jumped at the slightest noise. Her clamoring conscience demanded attention, and her mind jumped from one possibility to another. Logic told her the ambusher couldn’t have been a bounty hunter, but the conclusion didn’t bring her peace of mind. She couldn’t bear the thought of Matt being wounded or killed. She deserved her punishment. Matt had done nothing that warranted a death sentence.

She stood and added another stick of wood to the stove. Shivering, Libby wrapped her wool shawl around her shoulders and held her hands out to the fire’s heat. The wind howled, echoing the barren loneliness deep inside her. She missed Dylan more than she thought possible. She recalled his sweet smile and trusting eyes, and wished she hadn’t left him at Lenore’s.

Her heart bucked and she missed a breath. What would happen to Dylan if her past was revealed and she was taken back to Nebraska? Or worse, what if he got in the crossfire between herself and someone bound to collect the reward on her? Dread filled Libby. What had she done? She’d laid aside her prudence and hadn’t given a thought to those lives she’d affect by her decision to stay in Deer Creek. Dylan depended on her, and she’d only break his heart if the past collided with her new identity. She had no right endangering his life.

She bit her lower lip. The pain didn’t diminish the ache in her chest.

Matt dipped his pen into the ink stand and painstakingly signed his name to a paper. He sighed and tossed the quill on the scratched desktop. “I hope that’s all the blamed paperwork for today.”

Eli glanced at a few more sheets and set them aside. “Those’ll wait until tomorrow.”

Matt looked over his shoulder and tried to read some of the words. “What are they?”

“Telegrams from other lawmen. Doesn’t look like anything important.”

Matt stood and stretched, loosening muscles that had stiffened while he’d labored over reports and licenses. “Things were a lot simpler when I was with the Rangers.”

“That was over ten years ago, Matt. Times change.”

Matt grabbed a cloth that hung from the damper on the stove and wrapped the material around the coffeepot’s handle. He poured some of the black liquid into a cup. “You want some?”

Eli shook his head. “I’d better get going. I promised Annie Fowler I’d stop by and see how young Sam’s doing.”

“He still got the croup?”

“Yep. I want to make sure it doesn’t turn into anything worse. And while I’m out in that area, I’ll check on Herman Callendar’s foot. I sure hope he doesn’t lose it.”

“He should’ve hired some young feller to chop his wood. Old fool, cutting himself with the axe like that.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. Herman squeezes his pennies so tight they scream for mercy.” Eli stood. “Do you want me to come by tomorrow so we can finish the rest of the paperwork?”

Matt nodded and rubbed his jaw. “Did I tell you Libby volunteered to teach me to read and write?”

Eli brightened with interest. “You’d best take her up on that offer.”

“I don’t know. I’m supposed to go over there this evening for my first lesson.”

Eli frowned. “You’re going, aren’t you?”

Matt shifted uncomfortably. “I wouldn’t want to hurt her reputation any more than I’ve already done.”

“Hell, Matt, if she was worried about that, she wouldn’t have suggested tutoring you. You’ve always wanted to learn, and I don’t have the time or the patience to do it. You’d be a fool to let this opportunity pass by.”

“Maybe she didn’t mean it.”

Eli narrowed his shrewd eyes. “Or maybe you’re plain scared. If I was a betting man, I’d say she was interested in you, and I’d say the feeling was mutual.”

Matt’s gaze pierced Eli. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The warning in his tone didn’t intimidate the doctor. “If you didn’t wear that scar like a shield, you’d see it, too.”

Fragments of time when Libby had traced the jagged line with a tender fingertip branded his thoughts. Her soft husky voice echoed in his mind.

There’s no need to be ashamed, Matt.

I’m not other women.

The memory of her words coaxed his surrender and her body tempted his control, but distrust ran too deeply to throw aside his wariness. He knew firsthand how love could change to hate, and he’d barely survived the aftermath of the nightmare. He didn’t think he could endure another agonizing loss.

“Even if you’re right, she doesn’t want to get married,” Matt stated.

“She tell you that?” Eli asked.

Matt nodded.

Eli shook his head. “She doesn’t know what she wants. She’s got a few demons chasing her, too.”

Matt lifted his head sharply. “What?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t seen past them pretty eyes to see the ghosts? She’s scared of something, as sure as you and me are standing here, but I’ll be blasted if I can figure it out. She hasn’t told Lenore anything either. Whatever the problem is, it goes deep. Damned deep.”

Concern pressed upon Matt’s shoulders. He didn’t want to care about another woman. “I suppose she’ll tell someone when she’s good and ready.”

Eli sighed heavily. “Suit yourself. Did you ever figure out who shot at you and Libby last night?”

Matt shook his head. “There were too many tracks.”

“While I’m out, I’ll ask if anyone’s seen any strangers hanging around the area.”

“I’d be obliged.”

The doctor buttoned his overcoat and picked up his worn black bag. “See you later.”

Eli shuffled out and cold air eddied across the floor, bringing a shiver to Matt. He refilled his cup and went to the front window. He planted one booted foot on a chair, resting his elbow on his thigh. Sipping his coffee, he surveyed his town. He recognized everyone who hurried along the boardwalks.

He yawned widely. He’d circled the town much of the night and ensured Libby remained safe from the unknown gunman. He was convinced he was the target, but the slight chance Libby could have been had kept him alert for danger. And Eli’s suspicions about Libby’s past now didn’t ease his mind.

He’d had some doubts himself when Libby arrived in Deer Creek, but he’d cast them aside. He thought back to the first evening at Lenore’s and how he’d helped her clean up a broken plate. Matt had brushed her ankle, and she’d reacted instinctively and violently. He’d believed the incident a misunderstanding and forgotten about it. What if there had been more involved?

Unbidden, a memory sprang to mind. During his time with the Texas Rangers, he’d made an illegal foray into Mexico to track down a band of killers. They’d stopped in a tiny pueblo and rested their tired horses. Matt had asked one of the villagers where they could get some food, but the man hadn’t understood.
Matt had raised his hand to help illustrate his words and the Mexican had fallen to his knees, cowering before him. Later, Matt had learned the peasant had been beaten so often by the soldiers, the reaction had become reflexive.

He thought about the time Libby had panicked in the root cellar, and his gut clenched. What if she’d been mistreated? He frowned. The man in Mexico had been submissive, unable to look Matt in the eye. Libby didn’t have that problem. She’d stood up to Mrs. Beidler without flinching. He’d also been the recipient of her righteous indignation a time or two.

Matt swallowed his uneasiness. Libby’s problems had nothing to do with him, and there was no reason to become involved. Impatiently, he moved away from the window and set his empty cup on the paper-littered desk. He strode to the door, jammed his hat on his head, and escaped the stuffy confines of the office.

Outside, he waited for his lungs to adjust to the frigid air, and the image of Libby’s concerned face when she’d cared for him at his cabin floated in his mind. She’d saved his life without regard to the hornet’s nest she’d stirred up.

He jerked on his cowskin gloves, angry at her for the debt she’d given him.

But he was angrier with himself for wanting to help her.

“How is the lesson coming, Dylan?” Libby asked.

He looked up from the McGuffey’s reader and his eyes sparkled like sapphires. “I just finished. I liked this story. It was about a boy and a dog.”

“I knew you would.” Libby forced a smile. “You know, if you and I live at Mrs. Potts, there won’t be a place to keep a dog.”

Dylan’s expression fell.

Libby eased into a desk beside him. “But if you
lived with the sheriff, he’s got enough room to have one.”

“I thought you wanted me to live with you.”

The hurt in Dylan’s expression nearly shattered Libby’s resolve, and she clasped his hands in hers. “I do, but I wouldn’t mind if you lived with the sheriff. I’d still see you every day, and I know he cares for you as much as I do.”

“Would you live with Mrs. Potts?”

Libby nodded.

“Then I guess you wouldn’t be alone either.”

Libby swallowed tears. “That’s right.”

She could barely force herself to influence his decision, but Libby would never forgive herself if he chose to live with her and her crime became known. The torment would be even more devastating for herself and the innocent boy.

With forced cheerfulness, she spoke. “You’d better head on back to Mrs. Potts’s before it gets dark.”

Dylan slid from his seat and stood in front of Libby. “You sure you won’t be mad if I lived with the sheriff?”

Libby squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. “Of course not, honey. I’ll be happy no matter who you live with.”

He heaved a sigh of relief. “Mrs. Potts said she’d make me some gingersnaps today.”

Libby ruffled his dark hair. “Then you better get on to the house before Mr. Tanner and Mr. Johnson eat them all.”

In the cloakroom, Libby helped him into his jacket.

“You want to come with me?” Dylan asked hopefully.

Though she desperately wanted to, Libby shook her head. “I can’t. I have a lot of work to do.”

Confusion clouded Dylan’s expression. He nodded. “See you tomorrow morning.”

He scampered out of the schoolhouse and dashed
across the snow-covered path to town. Libby’s sight blurred as she leaned her forehead against the doorjamb. She was a murderer. She had no right to keep Dylan with her. Someday she would have to face the consequences of her deed, and she wouldn’t be able to bear the loving boy’s disillusionment. She had to convince him to choose Matt, but the knowledge didn’t stop the yearning in her heart.

The ache dulled and remained with her through the remainder of the afternoon and into the evening. Libby turned up the lamp’s wick and the kerosene fumes stung her eyes. She rubbed at the grainy moisture, but the burning sensation diminished only slightly.

The door hinges creaked, alerting Libby to a visitor. She looked up to see Matt shadowed in the entrance. Her pulse raced. “What are you doing here?”

“You did say six, didn’t you?” he asked.

Libby blinked. “I’m sorry. I must’ve been woolgathering.”

Matt fingered the brim of his hat and stepped back. “That’s all right. I won’t stay.”

Libby stood. “No, don’t go. I mean, you’re here, so we may as well begin. Come and sit down.”

He strode to the front of the room and removed his coat. An outdoors scent blanketed him, and her heartbeat stumbled through her veins. She struggled to batten down her defenses, and appraised him with a cool look.

As Libby lowered herself into her chair, Matt eased into the recitation bench in front of the large desk. She clasped her hands together to hide their trembling and concentrated on her task. “Tell me how much schooling you’ve had.”

“Where I grew up there weren’t any schools around. My ma tried to teach me numbers and some letters, but we had to keep the ranch together.”

“Where was your father?”

“He died at the Alamo. I was only four or five, so I don’t remember much about him.”

“And your mother?”

“Comancheros killed her when I was fourteen.”

Grief squeezed Libby’s heart. “I’m sorry.”

Matt shrugged. “That was a long time ago.”

“What did you do then?”

“I learned how to use a gun and went after them. It took me five years to track down the killers, but I did.”