Maureen McKade (5 page)

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Potts,” Pearson greeted. His gaze raked Libby. “And you must be Miss O’Hanlon. I was wondering when I’d get to meet you.”

Lenore introduced Libby to the storekeeper.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Pearson.” Libby offered her hand.

After a moment’s hesitation, Pearson shook it.

The weak handshake seemed to last forever, and Libby cringed inwardly. She drew out of his grasp, grateful for the gloves she wore.

Lenore rummaged through bolts of cloth piled on a counter. “Libby and me came to see if you got any new dry goods.”

Pearson drew his gaze away from Libby. “A couple freight wagons come in the other day. Had a few new pieces on ’em. I s’pect it won’t be long before the wagons won’t be able to get through at all.”

“You mean we’ll be cut off for the rest of the winter with no supplies and no mail?” Libby asked. She held her breath expectantly.

Lenore nodded. “Happens every year, honey. Those who can’t get used to it aren’t here anymore, but the rest of us know we got to squirrel away for the long winter ahead.”

Libby breathed a silent amen to her answered prayer. Without regular mail delivery, she could keep Mrs. Beidler at bay for a lot longer.

“I hope you aren’t like some women who can’t take the solitary winters, Miss O’Hanlon. I knew a woman
who went plumb crazy after three months of being cooped up in a cabin. Killed her husband and children, then killed herself. But they were miles from anywhere. At least we got each other here in town.” Pearson’s wolfish grin sent a shiver up Libby’s spine.

“I’ve always enjoyed being alone, so I don’t think winter will prove to be a great hardship, Mr. Pearson,” Libby replied coolly.
And it’ll be a cold day in hell before I ask you to keep me warm, you dirty old buzzard.

She joined Lenore, who picked up a bolt of shiny emerald-green material. She held it under Libby’s chin. “My goodness, this would make a beautiful dress for you, with that auburn hair and those lovely eyes. We can make it a bit daring across your bosom, but add some lace to soften it. Then add a bustle, the likes you’re used to in the big city. Why, you would be the belle of the ball, looking like a fairy-tale princess.”

Libby laughed. “What ball?”

“There’s a dance at the schoolhouse Christmas Eve. It isn’t exactly a ball, but everybody comes out in their brightest holiday colors. Most folks here are separated from their families, and this dance kind of pulls everyone together. Deer Creek is like one big, happy family that one night of the year. And the children will be expected to have a little program, a reenactment of the first Christmas night. It’s tradition.”

“I suppose the minister takes care of that.”

Lenore glanced at Libby and shook her head. “Why no, the schoolteacher has always taken care of the children’s program: You should’ve seen it last year. Little Micah Sattler tripped on his robe and fell right on top of baby Jesus. Lucky thing, Jesus was a doll. Of course it was Alice’s doll, and she threw the darndest fit when Micah broke its leg. But Levi, Micah’s older brother, he found a piece of string and tied the leg
back on so Alice quit crying and the program went on.”

Libby smiled weakly. “I don’t know how I can top that.”

Lenore squeezed her arm. “You’ll do fine. It seems overwhelming now, since you’re starting school the week of Thanksgiving. But you’ll get to know the children right fast. It’ll be fun.”

“Fun, of course,” Libby mumbled. She could deliver a baby without flinching, but the thought of directing a group of children in a play brought a cold sweat to her brow.
What have I gotten myself into?

They spent a few more minutes looking at the material, but Libby’s mind wasn’t on a new dress. She picked out a brush, a woolen scarf, and a pair of sheepskin gloves. After paying Pearson, they trudged back to the boardinghouse as the snow continued to fall.

Through dusk’s twilight, Dylan peeked around the corner of the jailhouse. He breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t see the sheriff. Dashing into the office, he stood by the hot stove. He held his bare hands out to the warmth, closing his eyes as feeling returned and imaginary needles riddled his fingers. He wiggled his toes, and the newspaper poking out of the holes in his shoes moved with them.

He sank into a wooden chair and propped his chin in a palm. Why wouldn’t his ma buy him a new coat or gloves? He knew she had the money. He had seen it in a wooden box she kept hidden in her room. Dylan had imagined taking from her hoard, but fear always stopped him. If she caught him, she’d beat him within an inch of his life. He had sneaked an extra biscuit one night at supper, and she had gotten out the belt. He winced, remembering the bite of the leather on his bare back and legs. In a mirror he’d seen the welts it left. But he’d never told anyone, because she’d threatened
to make the next punishment even worse if he did.

“So there you are. I been wondering what you’ve been up to the last few days.”

At the sound of the sheriff’s voice, Dylan’s head jerked up. He leapt to his feet. “I got to get going.”

He ran for the door, but Matt caught him by his pitifully thin arm. “Where’s the fire?”

“Ma will be looking for me.”

“She’s more’n likely getting ready for her customers. Why don’t you and me go get something to eat at the hotel?” Matt’s gaze swept across Dylan’s chapped cheeks and down to his feet. “Where are your new shoes?”

Dylan buried his chin in the collar of his coat. “Ma didn’t want me wearing them for everyday. She said I’d ruin them.”

Matt squatted down in front of the boy and raised his chin. “Where are your new shoes, Dylan?”

The boy blinked. Moisture gleamed in his blue eyes. “Ma took’em back to old man Pearson. I think she took the money for them.” He grabbed hold of Matt’s arm. “These shoes are okay. At least I ain’t barefoot.”

Matt studied Dylan’s frightened eyes, and as furious as he was with the boy’s mother, he was more concerned with Dylan’s fear. “Don’t worry, partner. I ain’t mad at you. It’s just that your ma shouldn’t have taken those shoes. I bought them for you, and she didn’t have any right taking them back to Pearson. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Dylan nodded. “I didn’t want her to take them, but she slapped me; said I was no better than a beggar. She said I didn’t need the new shoes, but she could use the money she got back for them.”

Matt’s teeth clenched. He placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “She was wrong, Dylan. I know she’s your ma, but that don’t mean she’s always right. I’m going to have a talk with her.”

“No!” Dylan hollered. “If you go see her, she’s going to be mad at me.”

Matt worked the muscle of his jaw. “I’m going to make sure she’s mad at me and not you.”

“You don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand?”

Dylan lowered his head. “I can’t tell you.”

“She beats you, don’t she?”

Dylan’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “No, she don’t.”

Rage filled Matt and his hands trembled. “Stay here, Dylan. I’ll be back in a little while.”

“What’re you going to do?”

The terror in Dylan’s expression tripped Matt’s heart. “Don’t worry. Everything will be all right. I promise.” He straightened and rubbed his jaw. “The jail could use another good sweeping. You stay here and clean this place up, then when I come back we’ll go out and have a steak dinner. How does that sound?”

The worry in Dylan’s face receded slightly and he nodded. “As long as I can have my own steak.”

“You got it.”

Half-heartedly, the boy took hold of the broom handle, then Matt laid a hand on his head. “I won’t be gone long.”

Matt strode out into the swirling snow and arrived at Sadie’s sporting house a few minutes later. Red lanterns on either side of the door told visitors what to expect, and Sadie had built her business on pleasing customers. He opened the door and stepped inside.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the high and mighty Sheriff Brandon,” a husky female voice spoke. “I’m surprised you lowered yourself enough to come inside.”

Matt pressed his hat back from his forehead and met Sadie Rivers’s bloodshot gaze. His glance swept across the glittery red dress that barely contained her
prominent breasts. The hem touched her knees and black stockings covered her skinny legs. The suggestive clothing should have excited him, but it didn’t. He looked away to the large entry and beyond to the parlor room, where a huge chandelier hung suspended from the ceiling by a heavy chain. Gaudy purple paper lined with velvety gold covered the walls, and Victorian lamps with tasseled shades added to the hollow illusion of glamour. Yellow drapes with frayed orange draw-cords prevented curious eyes from viewing the bawdy activities.

Matt’s attention returned to Sadie. “This ain’t a social visit. I want my money back.”

Sadie blinked, revealing bright blue eye shadow and eyelashes thickened by black powder. “I don’t recall taking any money from you, Sheriff.”

“You took a pair of shoes that didn’t belong to you.”

“What belongs to my son belongs to me.”

Matt placed himself directly in front of the madam. “I gave
him
the shoes, not you. I want either the shoes or the money back right now.”

Sadie’s red-rimmed eyes narrowed. “Come into my office where we can continue this conversation in private.”

Matt followed her through the garish parlor, where three scantily clad women eyed him suspiciously. The girls had been lured from neighboring farms and taught the art of selling their bodies. The life aged them far beyond their years. Matt ground his teeth and tallied another mark against Sadie.

Inside the office, she closed the door and settled into the crushed-velvet chair behind the rosewood desk. She leaned back like a queen about to hold court. “What I do with my son is no concern of yours, Sheriff.”

“It is when you take things from him that you
didn’t buy. I got them shoes for Dylan. If you don’t start taking better care of your son, he’s going to get pneumonia, or worse.”

Sadie tossed back frizzy hair, bleached almost white. “You got no right sticking your nose in where it don’t belong. I’ll do as I please, and I won’t have you or anybody else telling me how to take care of him.”

“I’m the law in this town, and if you ain’t a fit mother, I can take Dylan away from you. And believe me, I’m damned close to doing that now.”

Sadie leaned forward in the chair, her breasts nearly spilling out of the plunging décolletage. “No one takes what’s mine! No one! Do you understand, Sheriff?”

Matt nodded and narrowed his eyes. “I understand more’n you know. If you so much as touch that boy again, I’m coming to take him. Do
you
understand?”

Sadie’s cold eyes blazed. “Just because you’re the law in this town don’t mean you’re right. I have a lot of influence around here. I know men who’ll take care of a problem for the price of a bottle of whiskey.”

Matt planted his knuckles on the desktop and leaned forward until only a few inches separated him from the woman’s painted face. “Is that a threat?”

Sadie jumped to her feet and stalked around the desk. “No, a promise! You keep away from me and my son, Brandon.”

“Give me the shoes or the money now.”

“And if I don’t?”

Matt kept his fists close to his sides, afraid he would forget Sadie was a woman. “I’ll have a little talk with Mrs. Beidler. I’m sure she’d like to know where her husband spends his evenings. Who knows, maybe she’d stir folks up enough they’d run you out of town. But before she did, I’d throw you in jail for stealing.”

Rage glittered in the madam’s eyes, but a moment later her expression softened and she sidled close to
Matt. Her hand trailed up his thigh. “How about if you and me go on upstairs and I’ll pay you back in trade? I could do things you can’t even imagine.”

Her fingers curled around him.

Matt recoiled. “You couldn’t pay me enough to sleep with you.”

Sadie’s complexion blanched beneath her caked makeup, and her nostrils flared. She jerked open the top drawer of her desk and withdrew a few coins. She threw them at Matt. “Here’s your money. Now get out.”

Matt smiled without warmth and tucked the money in his pocket. “By the way, if you happen to think about him, Dylan is staying with me tonight.”

“You got no right!”

He shrugged innocently. “I asked a friend to stay the night and he agreed.”

“Get the hell out of here!”

Matt wrapped his gloved hand around the doorknob and turned back to Sadie. “If I hear that you laid a hand on that boy, I’ll be back, and next time I won’t be so friendly.”

As he crossed the street, Matt grinned in satisfaction. He’d made an enemy of Sadie Rivers, but he had no doubt he could handle her. She wouldn’t harm Dylan and risk being thrown in jail. It wasn’t that she cared about Dylan, but her business would suffer if she was behind bars.

The air was fresh and Matt breathed deeply to dispel the stink of cheap perfume trapped in his lungs. He remembered Sadie’s hand upon his leg and shuddered, trying to shake off the memory. If he and Sadie Rivers were the last two people on earth, the human race would die out.

Matt strode into the evening, his open coat flapping about his legs. The wind coaxed a few flakes out of the dark sky to settle on the earth. He spied the first star
of the night and without pause made a wish, then grimaced at his own folly. Twinkling stars and wishes-come-true were for children, not men who no longer believed in miracles.

He rounded a corner and collided with a soft body. Instinctively, Matt grabbed the cloaked figure and steadied her. Wide eyes stared back at him, and he was reminded of a deer poised for flight. He immediately removed his hands from Libby’s arms. “Pardon me, Miss O’Hanlon, but ain’t it kind of late for you to be out?”

Libby straightened so quickly her hood slipped from her head. Her cheeks flushed. “Ah, well, Sheriff, I couldn’t sleep and decided a walk might help.”

“This probably ain’t the best place for you to be walking.”

Matt’s height shadowed Libby, and she found her gaze captured by his broad shoulders. Her perusal moved lower to the patch of skin at the base of his neck, then down to his chest, settling on his belt buckle.