Authors: Warrior Heart
Jane Bonander (27 page)
“It’s possible.”
“Then…then what happened to Ethan?”
“I don’t know.” He caressed her shoulders, her back, her arms.
Her muscles relaxed under his ministering. “Are you going to go after Dom?”
“Would I be shirking my duty as a lawman if I didn’t?”
“No,” she said, smiling into his beautiful blue eyes.
“There’s been enough heartache. It’s time to heal. What will happen to Axel and Cleb?”
“The circuit judge is on his way. They’ll be dealt with properly. And I’ve already posted a notice that the papers have been retrieved. Anyone who wants his land back should contact me.”
They nuzzled each other, kissing and nibbling.
“I do love you, my Warrior Heart. You really love me, too?”
Jackson laughed. “I’ve told you so every day, haven’t I?”
Libby expelled a contented sigh. “And here I thought I was doomed to live with a man I loved who would never love me.”
“I love you with an intensity that sometimes scares me, sweetheart. Never have I felt this way before.”
Libby gazed into his rugged, wonderful face. “Never?”
“Never,” he repeated. He drew back, suddenly concerned. “You didn’t have any bad effects from your ride?”
She knew he meant the baby. “No. I think we’re going to have another Warrior Heart to raise.”
“And another one after that?”
She kissed his ear, drawing the lobe into her mouth. “Most definitely.”
Growling into her neck, he stood with her in his arms. “Is there time?”
“Dawn doesn’t get home for another hour. Is that long enough?”
“I guess it’ll have to be,” he answered. “Otherwise, she might walk in on us and decide to write a story about it.”
They laughed together as they took the stairs to the third floor, to the room they now shared.
Libby’s contentment went deep. Her prayers had all been answered. True to their daughter’s prediction, things had worked out just fine.
Riverside Boardinghouse, 1895
J
ackson sprinted up the porch steps, acknowledging the rocking Bellamy brothers with a nod.
“Afternoon, Sheriff.” Burl spat a wad of tobacco at the spittoon, his aim slightly off as the brown sludge trickled down the side.
“So today’s the day that highbrow brother of yers returns from New York City.”
Jackson rested his boot on the railing and gazed out over the lawn and Libby’s prize chrysanthemums. “Today’s the day,” he responded, feeling a rush of excitement.
“What’s he done, again?” Bert questioned.
“He received an award from the publishing world for his comprehensive work on the birds of the American West.”
“Studied birds, did he?” Burl spat again, his aim no better than the first time.
Jackson wondered how old the coots were. With their aversion to physical labor, they’d probably outlive everyone. He’d never seen either of them do a lick of work as long as he’d been at the boardinghouse.
“Yes, he studied birds, Burl.” He entered the house, the aroma of apple pie and cinnamon buns sensually attacking his nostrils. Crossing to the kitchen, he peeked inside and was graced with the scene of his wife sitting cross-legged on the floor, entertaining their four-year-old son, Nathaniel.
He glanced up, honoring his father with a bright, toothy smile. “Papa!”
“How’s my big boy?”
Jackson helped his very pregnant wife to her feet, then scooped his son up in his arms and gave him a noisy kiss. He held him high in the air, and the boy squealed with glee, settling against Jackson’s shoulder when he brought him down.
Libby straightened, her hand pressing the small of her back. Jackson was immediately concerned.
“You shouldn’t be working so hard, sweetheart. Where’s Mahalia?”
Libby stepped closer to him and offered her mouth. There was a smudge of cinnamon and sugar at the corner, and Jackson licked it off before kissing her long and deep. He stirred, in spite of her advanced pregnancy. Or maybe because of it. Hell, he didn’t know, for she was able to arouse him no matter what her condition.
“I sent her on an errand to get her out of my way. You’d think we were having royalty to dinner, the way she’s acting.”
Jackson smiled into her eyes, then noted the fluttering pulse at her throat. It always thrilled him to know she wanted him as badly and as often as he wanted her. “Well, it isn’t every day we have a famous author to dinner.”
Libby’s features softened. “I can’t wait to see the baby. Chloe Ann and Corey, too, of course,” she amended. “It’s been too long.” She gave Jackson a sly look. “He writes that he has a surprise for Dawn. She’s beside herself trying to guess what it is.”
Libby’s face was flushed, and Jackson continued to feel concern. “Are you sure you’re not doing too much?” With his family coming down from the ranch, he was afraid Libby had taken on more than she could handle.
“Will you stop worrying about me? I’d go crazy if I couldn’t keep busy. You know that.”
He rubbed her swollen abdomen, watching her relax. “You need a break, dear wife.”
As if on cue, Dawn Twilight entered the kitchen, giving her parents a crafty look. “Are you two at it again?”
Jackson’s gaze lingered on his daughter. She’d been a beauty at twelve; now she was a heartbreak waiting to happen. Something clutched his heart, and he recognized it as regret. One day soon she would leave them and begin a life of her own. She was mature beyond her years, but to him, she was still his little Dawn Twilight. The daughter he would have lost had it not been for Liberty O’Malley Wolfe.
“What are you going to do about it, you gorgeous creature? Write another story?”
The crafty look became a crafty smile. “You might be surprised. But right now,” she added, lifting her sleepy little brother into her arms, “Nate needs a nap before company comes.”
Dawn carried her brother to the door, then turned to her parents, her blue-gray eyes warm and her smile blinding. “You two are really something.”
Jackson pulled out a kitchen chair, sat down, and drew Libby onto his lap. They cuddled as he massaged her belly.
“Dom Mateo is back,” he told her.
Libby sat up, surprised. “Did you see him?”
Jackson tugged her toward him. “He stopped in to say hello.”
“You still think he killed Ethan?”
“It’s just a hunch. Who knows, maybe Ethan’s death was an accident. He was found floating facedown in the river. That could have meant he drowned.”
“And the water is so swift there,” Libby added, her voice cautious. “After all, that’s why they call it Thief River, isn’t it? Because it draws unsuspecting people into it, then snatches them into the current?”
“That’s the legend.” He kissed her again.
Neither mentioned the package of deeds and mortgage papers Jackson had received four years before. Now, however, every family that had been driven out had been given the opportunity to reclaim their land.
“Have you any idea what Corey’s surprise is for Dawn?”
“I have a good idea,” Jackson answered, trying not to act smug.
Libby pinched him, making him yelp. “You’d better tell me or I’ll pinch you again.”
He grinned. “If you weren’t so pregnant, I’d—”
“You’d what?” Her gaze was innocently seductive. The telltale pulse at her throat continued to throb.
“God, but I love you, woman.”
“And I love you.”
They settled together again. “He’s gotten her a scholarship, one she can use at any school she chooses.”
Libby gasped, her eyes filling with tears. “Oh, Jackson, she’ll be euphoric.”
He hugged his wife close. “I only hope she doesn’t decide she wants to go to some fancy eastern school.”
“I don’t think she’ll want to be that far away, do you?”
“I hope not.”
Mumser scurried into the kitchen, sniffed the corners, then settled near the stove on a rug Libby had put there especially for him. Not far away, Cyclops was asleep on her own cushion.
Libby shook her head. “After four years, that dog still growls at me. He has no idea that I could have his head on a plate, does he?”
“You know that old saying, ‘his bark is worse than his bite’?”
She raised a skeptical brow. “Are you referring to Mumser or me?”
He chuckled. “You two have more in common than you think, you know.”
“Oh, don’t give me that nonsense.”
“But it’s true, love. Under all of your bluster and stoicism, you’re a softhearted pushover. Behind Mumser’s growl, he’s the same. And the Shih Tzu is also known as the chrysanthemum dog because his face resembles the mum.”
Libby scrutinized the animal. “He doesn’t look like
my
mums.”
“I’d think that after all this time the two of you would come to some sort of truce.”
“Actually,” she answered, “I think we’ve rather come to enjoy our antagonism. Why, we even look forward to it, don’t we, Mumser?”
The dog perked up at the sound of his name, glanced at Libby, then growled, although his heavily plumed tail wagged.
Libby laughed. “See?”
Again, as so often happened when he thought about his life, peace stole into Jackson’s heart. He couldn’t imagine things turning out any other way. He was a lucky man to have found a woman like Liberty O’Malley. In his soul, he knew it was she, not he, who had the Warrior’s Heart.
Dear Readers:
First of all, I must apologize to the town of my birth, Thief River Falls, Minnesota, for stealing the name and transporting it to California. I’m not even certain the legend of the river is correct, but it’s the one I learned as a girl, and it was dramatic enough to stay with me and make me a cautious swimmer all those years ago.
Also, for you Shih Tzu buffs, thanks to my friend, Dorothy Lohman, I’m aware that the breed didn’t come to the United States until the twentieth century, but because this is fiction, I’ve chosen to bring it over earlier.
Again, as always, I welcome your letters and suggestions and I thank you so much for your support. I hope
Warrior Heart
was all you expected it to be.
Best always
,
Jane Bonander
Box 3134
San Ramon, CA 94583-6834
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