Victoria Bylin - Wyoming Lawman

His mind wandered until he felt a tug on his sleeve. As he looked down, Sarah leaned her head against his arm. The warmth of her temple passed through the cotton and went straight to his heart. Earlier he’d laced her hair into a single braid. Long and smooth, it gleamed in the lamplight. Thanks to Pearl, he’d gotten the hang of fixing hair. The trick was to pull with a firm hand. Before he’d seen how she did it, he’d worried too much about hurting Sarah’s head.

Dressed in a store-bought nightie, she looked up at him with her big blue eyes. “Daddy, I can’t sleep anymore.”

He draped his arm around her shoulders. With her tiny bones, she reminded him of a baby chick. “You will if you try.”

“I want to hear Cinderella again.”

The week they’d arrived in Cheyenne, he’d bought a storybook with colored pictures for Sarah’s birthday. He’d found it at the fanciest shop in town, and a clerk had told him the story behind it. A Frenchman named Charles Perrault had collected fairy tales in a book called Tales of Mother Goose. Someone else had translated the stories into English, and someone else had drawn pictures that sent Sarah into raptures of delight. She didn’t like the gruesome parts, but she enjoyed the rest. Matt had read Cinderella so many times that he had passages memorized.

“We already had a story,” he said. “It’s bedtime.”

“Pleeeease.”

Whining couldn’t be tolerated. It reminded him of Bettina. “No, Sarah. It’s time to sleep.”

She tried to climb on his lap. Matt picked her up by her underarms and plopped her down on his knee. Rather than march her to bed, he’d play one last game of Horsey, then tuck her in with a kiss on the nose. She liked that.

As he scooted the chair back, Sarah saw the stationery. “What’s that?”

“A letter.”

“Who’s it to?”

“It’s for Miss Pearl.” He wanted Sarah to show respect, so he’d used the “Miss.”

“We’re helping her get a job as a teacher.”

“My teacher?” She wiggled with excitement.

“Maybe.”

Twisting in his lap, she put her hands on his shoulders. The lashes fringing her eyes fluttered upward. “Maybe she could be my mama, too.”

The question didn’t surprise him. Sarah had been talking about mamas since the day she’d seen Pearl. At supper she’d asked him why she didn’t have one anymore. Matt had given the only answer he could manage. Something happened, sweetheart. She had to leave.

What else could he say? I let your mother down and she ran off. She found another man…a better man.

A five-year-old couldn’t fathom such things, but someday Sarah would want to hear the truth. What could he say? That he’d been a rotten husband? The thought turned his stomach. Sarah needed a mother, but there was no reason to think he’d become a better man. Never mind Pearl’s pretty hair and easy manner. Matt had no business noticing her.

“Come on,” he said to Sarah, lifting her as he stood. “You talked me into one more story.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too, darlin’.”

He galloped her into the bedroom, tucked her against the feather tick, sat on the stool by her bed and opened Mother Goose. If he angled the book toward the door, enough light came from the hall that he could make out the words. He could also see the picture of Cinderella with her blond curls and blue eyes.

Sarah rolled on her side. “I think she looks like Miss Pearl.”

So did Matt. “A little.”

“A lot.” Sarah folded her hands across her chest. Then she did something Matt had never seen her do. She closed her eyes and mouthed words he couldn’t hear.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m praying.”

Matt had no such inclination, not anymore. A long time ago he’d prayed the prayers and he’d felt relieved of his misdeeds, but not anymore. That boy had turned into a man who had to live with his mistakes. All that remained of his faith were the pangs of guilt that had driven him to work harder than any lawman in Texas. The effort had cost him Bettina, who hadn’t liked playing second fiddle to his badge.

Matt couldn’t change the past, but he could stop others from making the same mistakes. That’s why he’d do anything to protect the innocent…anything except put Sarah at risk.

“Daddy?”

He stumbled back to Sarah’s land of fairy tales. “Yes, darlin’?”

“I’m praying for a mama.”

Matt didn’t expect God to answer Sarah’s prayer, but neither could he burst the bubble of a child’s faith. He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “Go ahead and pray, sweetheart. There’s no harm in it.”

“Mrs. Holcombe says it’s good to pray. She says God listens.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She reads me Bible stories.”

“That’s nice.”

“I like fairy tales better,” Sarah said with authority.

So did Matt, though he didn’t believe in either one. “Close your eyes now.”

As she breathed out a sigh, he started to read about the poor girl enslaved by a wicked stepmother. By the time he reached the second page, Sarah’s eyes had drifted shut and her breathing had settled into the rhythm of sleep. He closed the book without making a sound, then went to the kitchen where he reread the letter for Pearl. Satisfied, he folded it into thirds and sealed it.

As he put the stopper in the ink, he wished he could bottle his feelings as easily. His insides were churning and not only because of Pearl. Tonight he’d dream about Jed Jones and bullets flying at the Silver Slipper. Neither could he forget Jasper Kling and his strong reaction to the Peters kid. No one got away with anything in front of Jasper, not even a crude joke. Matt knew all about men who lived two lives. They did things in the dark they’d never do during the day.

Jasper had that tendency. So did the other members of the Golden Order. Matt knew how easily a good organization could go bad. Politics had turned the Texas Rangers into the Texas State Police, and not everyone had been honorable. Rather than become part of it, he’d come north with Sarah. They’d done well together, and he hadn’t had nightmares until Jed Jones’s lynching. Since that day, he hadn’t slept more than a few hours at a time. He doubted he’d sleep tonight, but catnaps were better than nothing. Hoping the dreams wouldn’t come, he blew out the lamp and went to bed.

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