Victoria Bylin - Wyoming Lawman

She turned to Carrie. “I need to check Toby. Is there a place—”

Three knocks rattled the door.

“That’s Matt.” Forgetting Pearl, Carrie flung the door wide. Light fanned across her full cheeks, revealing faint freckles and the smitten glow of a woman in love. Pearl wondered if she’d ever feel a similar pleasure in a man’s presence. Envy at Carrie’s innocence ripped through her, but she shoved it away.

With a blush on her cheeks, Carrie stepped back to make room for the deputy and his daughter. “Come in,” she said. “I want you to meet my cousins.”

In a feeble attempt to hide her hat, Pearl moved closer to the coat rack. Maybe Matt Wiley wouldn’t notice the ribbons. Maybe the clerk had been slow to deliver the note and she could get it back.

Sarah came through the door first. Carrie crouched to hug her, but the little girl stopped short. Unruffled, Carrie touched the doll in Sarah’s arms. “You brought Annie. She looks pretty today.”

Sarah scowled. “She’s mine.”

“Of course, she is,” Carrie said gently.

Pearl ached for them both. Her cousin plainly cared for the man and his daughter. Sarah, though, probably saw her as a rival. Pearl knew how she felt. When a child lost a mother, life became fragile. When Carrie straightened, Sarah spotted Pearl, cried out with delight and ran to hug her knees. Pearl shot Carrie a look of apology. When her cousin forced a smile, Pearl knew they’d be as close as sisters. They thought alike. They loved alike.

Pearl smoothed Sarah’s hair. Smiling, she made her voice bright. “Did you know Miss Carrie’s my cousin?”

“What’s that?” Sarah asked.

“It means we’re family, and I like her very much. She likes you, too.”

Pearl glanced at Carrie for approval. Her cousin mouthed “Thank you,” then crouched next to Sarah. “I like Annie, but I know she’s yours.”

Sarah stayed by Pearl, but she held up the doll for Carrie to see. “Her dress got dirty, but I changed it.”

“You did a good job, darlin’.”

That Texas drawl could only belong to one man. Knowing she’d be looking into Matt Wiley’s green eyes, Pearl dragged her gaze upward. Just as she feared, he was staring at the bow she’d made from the ribbons. She forced a nonchalant smile. “Good evening, Deputy.”

He took off his hat with a gallant sweep of his arm. His hair, a bit shaggy, touched the collar of a green shirt topped with a dark vest. “Good evening. It’s a pleasure…again.”

The scent of bay rum tickled her nose. So did the lingering smell of lye soap. Did he have a housekeeper, or did he send his clothes to the laundry? The thought twisted in her mind until it formed a hard knot of truth. She had no business wondering about Matt Wiley’s laundry.

He stepped deeper into the entry hall and reached back to close the door. As he turned, the vest pulled across his broad chest. With six people in the small space, including Toby in her arms, she had nowhere to hide. Deputy Wiley’s gaze landed on her son, lingering while he grappled with his thoughts on her marital status. Gurgling, Toby scooted up her chest like an inchworm. She loved it when he moved against her, and she smiled in spite of the awkward moment. As she shifted the baby’s weight, the deputy watched her son with a father’s knowing smile. She wondered if he’d held Sarah the same way.

Carrie straightened. “You’ve met, but I should finish introductions. Matt, this is my cousin Pearl and her father, Reverend Tobias Oliver.”

Tobias held out his hand. “Good evening, Deputy.”

As the men shook hands, Pearl tried to signal Carrie for a place to remove her hat. Her cousin didn’t notice. She had eyes only for Sarah and was already leading the little girl into the parlor.

When Matt broke his grip, Tobias offered his arm to Pearl. “Shall we join Carrie?”

Before she could reply, Deputy Wiley spoke in a low tone to her father. “If you don’t mind, sir. I’d like a word with your daughter.”

Tobias wrinkled his brow. “I don’t think—”

Pearl interrupted. “It’s all right, Papa.” She wanted a word with him, too. If he’d received her note, she needed to make her position clear. She’d been completely unaware of his interest in Carrie and her cousin’s claim on him. She’d still braid Sarah’s hair, but she’d invite Carrie to join them.

As Tobias stepped into the parlor, Deputy Wiley glanced again at her hat. “I see you got the ribbons.”

“Yes. They’re lovely.”

Using a quiet tone, one meant for Pearl alone, he said, “I got your note.”

He’d spoken as if they had a secret, a thought that shamed her because of Carrie. She had to make her loyalty clear. “My thank-you note,” she said.

“Exactly.” He looked relieved. “Since I sent the ribbons to thank you, and you sent the note to thank me, I’d say we understand each other.”

Pearl sagged with relief. “Yes. Of course. We certainly do. Thank you…again.”

Why was she babbling? And why were his eyes twinkling with pleasure? She didn’t know, but she sensed goodness in this man. If it weren’t for Carrie, she wouldn’t have regretted the note at all. She’d have mustered her courage and gone after Deputy Matt Wiley with her best smile. But that could never be. Not only did Carrie have a claim on him, Pearl was damaged goods and she knew it.

Pearl’s discomfort hit Matt with surprising force. He didn’t know why he felt compelled to protect her dignity, but he knew the impulse went beyond gratitude. He liked her. Unless he’d lost his instincts concerning women, she’d needed courage to add the P.S. to the thank-you note. Like a lot of the folks in Cheyenne, she’d probably come to Wyoming for a fresh start. Looking at the baby, he thought he knew why but wanted to be sure.

The blue blanket clued him to the child’s gender. “Is that your son?”

“Yes.”

“He’s a cute little fellow. What’s his name?”

“Toby.” She raised her chin, daring him to ask the obvious question.

He spoke gently. “And your husband?”

“I don’t have one.”

So the preacher’s daughter had skipped “I do” and gone straight to “I will.” Matt didn’t hold it against her. His own slate had enough marks to cover a barn.

With a baby in her arms and no husband, she had a good reason to be reserved. People would judge her to be lacking in moral character. The ribbons on her hat told him she had even more courage than he’d guessed. He felt bad about discouraging a friendship, but it had to be done. That’s why he’d asked for a private word. She deserved to know he’d been flattered by her interest, but she wouldn’t be braiding Sarah’s hair.

The baby in her arms made a funny squeak. The sound reminded him of Sarah as an infant and he grinned. “He’s lively, isn’t he?”

“Very.”

With her blue eyes and tilted chin, she reminded him of the picture of Cinderella in Sarah’s book of fairy tales. He blinked and imagined a white coach and glass slippers, a prince chasing after her and mice turning into dashing white horses. His mind went down a long, strange road before he pulled himself back to the entry hall.

Pearl jiggled the baby. “We should join the others.”

As he motioned for her to lead the way, Carrie came back from the parlor. She smiled at Matt, then focused on Pearl. “There’s a guest room behind the stairwell. You can tend the baby there.”

As Pearl went down the hall, Matt watched the ripple of her silver-blue dress, thought again of Cinderella and scowled. He had no business thinking about glass slippers and Pearl in the same breath. He’d been a lousy husband to Bettina, and he’d doubtlessly make the same mistakes if he ever lost his mind and remarried. As much as Sarah wanted a mother, she’d have to make do with Mrs. Holcombe, the widow who lived across the street from them. Mrs. Holcombe loved Sarah and treated her like a granddaughter.