Victoria Bylin - Wyoming Lawman

To put her at ease, he sat in the chair across from her and set his hat on the table. He indicated the growing braid. “You’re good at that.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.”

Sarah tilted her face upward. “Do you have a little girl?”

“No,” the woman replied. “But I know about braids.”

As calm as she sounded, she’d blushed at the mention of having a child. Matt searched her hand for a wedding band, the cheap kind a woman bought for herself to hide an indiscretion. He saw nothing on her slender fingers, not even a hint of white where she might have worn a ring. The more he watched her with Sarah, the more curious he became. He wanted to ask her name, but he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Sarah, though, had no such qualms. She was chattering about her doll, hair ribbons, last night’s fairy tale and what they’d had for breakfast. Whatever crossed her mind came out of her mouth, including the question Matt had wanted to ask.

“What’s your name?” the child asked.

The woman took a breath. “I’m a teacher. You can call me Miss Pearl.”

She sounded natural, but Matt figured she’d omitted her last name for a reason. Whatever secret she had, it concerned a lack of a husband. He draped a boot over one knee. “Is that your given name or your last?”

She paused to stare at him. “It’s how I wish to be addressed.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Even by strangers?”

She shrugged as if she didn’t care, but her cheeks turned even pinker. Looking back at Sarah’s hair, she braided the last inch, wrapped the end with a ribbon and jerked it tight. Matt counted it as both a lesson in hair braiding and a glimpse of Miss Pearl’s character. She could be tough or tender. He liked that in a woman.

Fool!

He’d never marry again, not after the misery he’d known with Bettina. In Matt’s experience, there was no middle ground between companionship and craziness. Looking at Miss Pearl, he felt sure of it. When she smiled at Sarah, he felt soft inside. When she looked at him with her troubled eyes, he tensed with the instinct to protect her.

The woman handed the comb to Sarah. “You’re all set.”

“Thank you, Miss Pearl.”

As the females hugged, Matt stood. He still owed her for the dress, so he reached in his pocket and held out the silver coins. “For the laundering.”

“Use it for Sarah.” She touched his daughter’s silken head. “Buy her something pretty.”

In that instant, Matt forgot all about paying debts and surrendered to his curiosity. Who gave Pearl pretty things? Who made her smile when times got hard? He didn’t know, but a thought stuck in his mind and wouldn’t budge. He’d express his gratitude for saving Sarah’s life, but not with a visit to the laundry. Instead of paying for the dress, he’d buy Pearl something pretty.

Pearl unlocked the door to the suite, shut it behind her and leaned against the wood. She’d never forget the way Matt Wiley had looked at her when he’d thanked her for saving Sarah. She’d felt honorable, whole. If she were honest, she’d felt something even more powerful. She refused to give voice to secret hopes, but she blushed with an undeniable truth. Matt Wiley made her feel pretty again.

“Pearl?”

“I’m here, Papa.”

Tobias came out of the back bedroom with Toby in his arms. At the sound of her voice, the hungry baby let out a wail, kicked and tried to get to his mama. Pearl reached for him. “He needs to nurse.”

Tobias handed her the squirming infant. “I gave him water, but he’s not happy. Is everything all right with the little girl?”

“Just fine.” She jiggled Toby to calm him. “Her father’s a deputy. He found us.”

“Good.”

“She misses her mother,” Pearl added. “Apparently I look like her.”

With Toby in her arms, she thought of Sarah’s hopeful eyes. Under different circumstances, she’d have given Matt Wiley her full name. She’d have offered to braid Sarah’s hair again. If he’d asked her to supper, she’d have said yes and worn her prettiest dress. Toby kicked again, reminding her such dreams were foolish. What man would want her now? She was damaged goods and had a baby to prove it.

“I better feed him,” she said to her father.

Tobias motioned to the second bedroom. “Your trunk’s in there.”

“Thank you, Papa.”

“We have plenty of time,” he added. “Carrie left a message at the desk. She’s expecting us at six o’clock for supper.”

Pearl had mixed feelings about meeting her cousin. Four months ago, when the trouble in Denver had reached a peak, Tobias had written to Carrie and asked for information about Cheyenne. She’d written back and invited them to visit her. They’d accepted, and Carrie had generously made arrangements for Pearl to interview at Miss Marlowe’s School for Girls.

Tonight Pearl would tell Carrie about Toby and the circumstances of his conception. She’d either keep her cousin’s respect or she’d lose it. If she lost it, she wouldn’t have a chance of being hired as a teacher and would have to find another way to earn a living. Tobias had a small pension from his years as a minister at Colfax Avenue Church, but it wasn’t enough to support all three of them. Neither did Pearl want him looking for work. Twice in the last month he’d had bouts of chest pain.

Sighing, she glanced at the clock on the mantel. If she moved quickly, she’d have time to feed Toby, wash the train grit from her face and take a nap. Determined to be at her best, she closed the bedroom door and did all three.

An hour later, a rap on the door to the suite pulled her out of a troubled slumber. In her dreams she’d seen the wagon bearing down on Sarah. The picture had shifted and she’d been braiding the child’s hair. It had turned to shining gold, and Matt Wiley had been watching her hands.

The knock sounded again.

Had Carrie come to meet them? Pearl bolted upright and inspected herself in the mirror. She’d put on her oldest day dress and her hair looked a fright. The knocking turned hammer-like. Not Carrie, she decided as she turned from the mirror.

In the sitting room she saw her father, pale and stiff, coming out of the other bedroom. He motioned her aside, but she couldn’t bear the sight of him trying to hurry. Ignoring his gesture, she opened the door and saw a delivery boy holding a small package wrapped in brown paper.

“Are you Miss Pearl?”

“Yes, I am.”

“This is for you.” He held out the package and Pearl took it. Perhaps Carrie had sent a welcome gift, though the gesture seemed too formal for cousins.

As the boy waited expectantly for a coin for his trouble, Pearl looked at her father. Tobias reached in his pocket, extracted a few pennies and handed them to the boy. As he shut the door, Pearl fingered the package in an attempt to guess its contents. It felt soft, like fabric of some kind. Perhaps a pretty handkerchief. That seemed like the kind of gift Carrie might send. Pearl lifted the card bearing her name and turned it over. Instead of her cousin’s prim cursive, she saw bold strokes in a man’s hand. As she read the message, her cheeks flushed pink.

“Who’s it from?” Tobias asked.

“Deputy Wiley.”

Her father hummed a question. “What does it say?”

“‘To Miss Pearl with our deepest gratitude. You are a woman of uncommon courage.’” She looked up at her father. “It’s signed ‘From Deputy Matt and Sarah.’”

His gray eyes misted. “I like this man.”

“Papa, don’t—”

“Don’t what?” He scowled at her. “Don’t hope for happiness for my little girl? Don’t believe God for a second chance?”

Pearl wanted the same things, but she couldn’t go down the same road, not one lined with mysterious gifts and the curious shine in Matt Wiley’s green eyes. She set the card on the table, then looked at the package. The brown paper spoke of ordinary things, but someone had tied it shut with a lace ribbon instead of twine. Pearl didn’t know how to cope with a man’s interest, not anymore.