Authors: Winter Hearts
Maureen McKade (35 page)
“Can I see him?”
“Go on in. Libby won’t leave his side.”
Matt entered the examination room, where Dylan lay small and pale beneath several blankets. Libby stood over him, holding his hand. The front of her dress was stained with blood, and pride surged through him for the courageous woman he’d nearly lost.
“Eli says you done a good job,” Matt said in a hushed voice.
Libby turned, and her face appeared drawn and haggard, as if she’d fought on the losing side of a battle. “I’m not sure if it’s good enough.” She blinked and the mask lifted for a moment to reveal her torment. She glanced back down at the boy … their boy. A few strands of auburn hair fell across her shoulders. “We’ll have to wait to see if infection sets in.”
Matt curled his fingers into a tight fist. “This never should have happened.”
Libby paled, and tears filled her eyes. “I should be lying there, not Dylan. Harrison came here because he was after me. I knew what he was capable of doing. If I hadn’t come to Deer Creek, none of this would’ve
happened. Sadie wouldn’t be dead, and Dylan wouldn’t be lying there.”
Her anguish twisted Matt’s stomach into a knot, and he took a step toward her, but stopped short of touching her. “If you hadn’t come to Deer Creek, Sadie might’ve killed him without anyone caring. You gave that boy love and a place to live where he didn’t have to be afraid.
You
done that.”
She blinked and rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes.
Had
she saved Dylan from a fate worse than he suffered now?
Matt cupped her chin in his palm and raised her face. “If you hadn’t shown up here, I would’ve gone on lonely and bitter. You gave me and Dylan hope for a life filled with happiness.” His voice gentled. “Don’t you take that away from us, Libby.”
She wanted to believe Matt’s words. She wanted to believe his and Dylan’s lives were better because she’d come to Deer Creek. She wanted to believe they had a future together.
Matt caressed her cheek tenderly. “When my wife died, I thought I was free of her, but deep down inside Rachel was still there. She kept saying no woman could ever love a man like me. And when Thompson first arrived, I thought you’d used me.” He took a deep unsteady breath. “I doubted you, Libby. If I hadn’t, I could’ve protected you and Dylan. Can you forgive me?”
Confusion mingled with disbelief. “But none of this was your fault.”
Matt stepped back and ran his blunt fingers through his thick hair, gazing at her with grief-filled eyes. “Even after everything you gave me, I didn’t trust you.”
She swayed toward him, reaching out to lay her hand against his chest. “It’s me who doesn’t deserve your forgiveness, Matt.”
Matt shook his head. “But I was the one who let you down.”
From behind the wooden door, Eli’s voice cut into their conversation. “Good God. Why don’t you both just apologize?”
Libby gazed at Matt. Her fear lifted, and a smile twitched her lips. “I’m sorry for all the lies, Matt.”
“I’m sorry for running away when you needed me most, Libby. I’ll never leave you again. I promise.” Gently, Matt traced the line of her jaw. His gossamer touch sent a shiver of longing coursing through her.
“Our demons can finally rest in peace,” he whispered.
Libby nodded, unable to speak. The scents of bay rum and Matt enveloped her in a cloak of belonging.
“Miss O’Hanlon?” Dylan’s voice was so weak Libby could barely hear him.
She moved to his side and laid her hand on his warm forehead, brushing his hair back. “Hello, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”
Dylan’s nose wrinkled. “I feel like I been kicked by a mule.”
Libby laughed gently and tears gathered in her eyes. “Not quite. Do you remember what happened?”
She watched him grope for the memories, and sadness touched his boyish face. “Ma’s dead, isn’t she?”
Libby opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come.
Matt moved around to the other side of Dylan. “I’m afraid so, partner.”
“What about Miss O’Hanlon’s husband?”
“He’s dead, too,” Libby replied.
Silence permeated the room for a full minute, and Libby thought Dylan had fallen back to sleep.
“I know I should be sorry they’re dead, but I’m not. They were mean,” Dylan said hoarsely.
Helplessly, Libby looked to Matt. She didn’t know how to respond to the boy’s confession.
“It’s not right to be wishing anybody’s death,” Matt said. “But at least they can’t hurt you or Miss O’Hanlon anymore.”
Dylan nodded somberly and moaned. “My leg hurts something awful.”
“When you fell down the stairs, you broke it.”
A hint of fear appeared on his pale face. “Will it be all right?”
“I think you’ll be just fine,” Libby assured him. She turned and picked up Dylan’s ragged stuffed dog from a counter. She tucked it under the blankets, beside the boy. “Now you have to rest and get your strength back, so I can give you your Christmas present. You get to pick out your very own puppy.”
Dylan’s eyes widened. “Really?”
Libby smiled. “Really. But for now, your old puppy will have to keep you company.”
He clutched the toy close to his chest and his eyelids drooped. “A real dog and a real family.”
He fell asleep with a smile curving his innocent lips.
“He will be all right, won’t he?” Matt asked.
Libby pulled the blankets snugly around Dylan and came around the bed to stand close to Matt. “We’ll have to watch his leg closely for a while longer, but I have a feeling everything’s going to work out fine.”
She cupped her hand around his whiskered jaw. He turned his face into her palm, and pressed his lips to the sensitive skin. “Thank you,” he said, his tender tone caressing her.
Libby’s heart pounded against her ribs.
“For what?” she asked breathlessly.
“For saving his life.” He raised his head and whispered a tender kiss across her cheek. “And for saving my life. Don’t you ever leave me, Libby O’Hanlon.”
She looked up. Brandy-colored eyes glistened with a love so powerful it swept her breath away.
“Never,” she vowed, and sealed the promise with a kiss filled with all of her tomorrows.
Montana
May, 1871
“L
ooks like winter’s last blow ended with a whimper,” Lenore commented, with a glance out the cabin window. “Kind of like Adelaide’s objections to the newest schoolteacher leaving.”
Libby shook her head and smiled tolerantly. “How many teachers does that make since the first of the year?”
“Last count was five. George Johnson sure didn’t waste any time courting Miss Meara. Two weeks of stepping out, and now they’re hitched.”
Libby placed the last of the disinfected medical tools in her black bag and shook her head. “Poor Mr. Pearson. He was so sure he’d get her to the altar. I feel kind of sorry for him.”
“I thought you didn’t like him. You said he was a lecherous old man,” Lenore said with a puzzled look.
Libby shrugged, a mischievous smile on her lips. “Ever since I lanced that boil on his backside, he’s treated me with the utmost respect.”
Lenore laughed and slapped her round thigh. “I knew you’d settle right in after all the fuss blew over.”
“By the way, you never did tell me how you got Mrs. Beidler to stop her gossip about Matt and me.”
“Let’s just say that we reached an understanding,” Lenore said enigmatically.
Libby quirked an eyebrow upward, but recognized this was one piece of information Lenore wasn’t about to impart. “Has Mr. Tanner moved to his ranch yet?”
“A couple more days and his cabin will be done. The boardinghouse is going to be a mite lonely.”
Libby removed her white pinafore. “Not for long. Eli will be moving in next week.”
Lenore reddened, but a saucy grin lit her face. “I figured if you could be a doctor and a wife, I could own a boardinghouse and be a wife, too.”
The door opened and Matt strode in. Seeing Lenore, he stopped abruptly. “Afternoon, Lenore. What brings you out here?”
“Spring fever.” She eyed the sheepishness in Matt’s face. “Looks like the same thing brought you here.” She leaned close to Libby and whispered, “Come on by the house tomorrow and I’ll do those alterations for you.” She winked. “Now’s the perfect time to celebrate.”
The twinkle in the older woman’s eyes warmed Libby’s face, but one look at Matt and her embarrassment fled. After five months of marriage, she still couldn’t hide the pleasure his mere presence instilled in her. The door closed behind Lenore, and Libby crossed the room to be captured in Matt’s strong arms. He tossed his hat at a wooden peg, but missed. He kissed her, and though they’d shared hundreds of caresses, she still lost herself in his embrace.
“Where’s Dylan?” Matt asked.
“He and George Washington are out chasing squirrels,” Libby murmured.
Matt grinned. “I wonder what old George would
say if he knew a mangy hound dog had been named after him.”
Libby laughed softly. “You were the one who said he could name him anything he wanted, and it so happened he’d been studying the presidents. I’m just glad he didn’t name him Royal Flush.”
Matt sobered. “He did get to be quite a poker player those weeks he spent in bed, didn’t he? Do you think he’ll ever get over his limp?”
Libby shook her head. “It’s hard to say. At least he didn’t lose his leg.”
Matt sighed. “You’re right. Sometimes I look at him and wish …”
She squeezed his hand. “We can’t change the past, Matt. We can only look forward.”
He hugged her snug against his chest and Libby closed her eyes, listening to the steady heartbeat below his shirt. She wondered what he’d say when she told him. She’d been so afraid she wouldn’t be able to conceive after … No, she wouldn’t allow the memory of Harrison Thompson to spoil the joy of her surprise.
“I have something to tell you, Matt,” she said shyly.
“You won’t be home tonight because you have to help Eli deliver another baby?” Matt guessed with a hint of exasperation in his voice.
“Not exactly.” She stepped back, took his hand in hers, and placed it on the curve of her stomach. “Eli will have to deliver this one alone.”
Matt stared at Libby, his mouth agape. Regaining his senses, he whooped loud enough to raise the cabin’s rafters. He picked Libby up and swung her around. Suddenly he stopped and set her down, his face filled with concern. “Are you all right?”
Libby laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to break. Women have babies all the time.”
“Not mine.” Wonder filled Matt’s handsome face. “When?”
“Around Thanksgiving.”
“A year after you came to Deer Creek and drew me back among the living,” Matt commented softly. His tone turned solicitous. “Are you tired? Maybe you should lie down and take a nap.”
“I have a better idea.” She raised an eyebrow suggestively.
Matt chuckled. The low, deep sound turned Libby’s insides to hot, thick syrup. “You’re insatiable, Libby Brandon.”
“You have no one to blame but yourself.” Tenderness welled within her. “You’ve made me the woman I am today.”
Matt nuzzled her neck and trailed his lips down her bodice. “I’ll never get tired of loving you, angel eyes.”
He clasped her hand and led her into the bedroom.
An hour later, Libby lay in the crook of Matt’s arm. Contentment swelled within her. She’d found her knight in shining armor, hidden beneath a scarred soul. She’d rescued him. And he’d found the woman beneath the fear, and saved her from a life of cold emptiness.
Spring had blossomed in their winter hearts.
Maureen McKade has been making up stories since the moment she learned to read, write and string sentences together. Her first book, “Winter Hearts”, published in 1997 was a finalist in the Romance Writers of America’s (RWA) Golden Heart contest, then a finalist in RWA’s RITA for best first book. Since then, she’s written thirteen more books and a short story for an anthology.
She taught middle school science for three years then held a variety of jobs--bookstore clerk, administrative assistant, customer service manager, department manager, and pharmacy technician--until she settling on writing. (Or, more aptly, until writing settled on her.)
Maureen and her husband, a retired Air Force officer, now live on 40 nature-filled acres in southwestern North Dakota with their two French Brittany Spaniels and three cats. Her eclectic list of leisure pursuits include long walks with hubby and their two dogs, reading, wildlife watching, golfing, bird hunting, and dallying in the kitchen.