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Wyoming Lawman
Victoria Bylin
Matrimony? Never again for deputy sheriff Matt Wiley. The only good thing from his first marriage is his daughter.His little girl might want a mother, but Matt knows that no woman should have to deal with his guilty secret, or his anger at God. He'll do his duty, serve the town of Cheyenne and keep his distance. Yet when courageous single mother Pearl Oliver comes to town, watching from the sidelines isn't an option–especially when Pearl lands herself in danger. His heart, Pearl's life and the safety of their town are all at risk. Only the love and faith he thought he'd left behind can help him win his way to happily ever after.



“I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, too, darlin’,” Matt replied.
He galloped Sarah into her bedroom, tucked her against the feather tick, sat on a stool by her bed and opened Mother Goose. He could see the picture of Cinderella with her blond curls and blue eyes.
Sarah rolled to 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. A long time ago he’d prayed prayers, but not anymore. That boy had turned into a man who had to live with his mistakes. He 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?”
“Yes, darlin’?”
“I’m praying for a mama.”

VICTORIA BYLIN
fell in love with God and her husband at the same time. It started with a ride on a big red motorcycle and a date to see a Star Trek movie. A recent graduate of UC Berkeley, Victoria had been seeking that elusive “something more” when Michael rode into her life. Neither knew it, but they were both reading the Bible.
Five months later they got married and the blessings began. They have two sons and have lived in California and Virginia. Michael’s career allowed Victoria to be both a stay-at-home mom and a writer. She’s living a dream that started when she read her first book and thought, “I want to tell stories.” For that gift, she will be forever grateful.
Feel free to drop Victoria an e-mail at VictoriaBylin@aol.com or visit her Web site at www.victoriabylin.com.

Wyoming Lawman
Victoria Bylin


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Unless the Lord builds the house, its builders labor in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchmen stand guard in vain.
In vain you rise early and stay up late, toiling for food to eat—for he grants sleep to those he loves.
—Psalms 127:1–2
To my husband, Michael,
For his patience, support and sense of humor.
Thank you, Bears, for helping with the bad guys.
Only a true good guy would have your wisdom.
Love you!

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion

Chapter One
Cheyenne, Wyoming
October 1875
Pearl Oliver stepped out of the carriage in front of Dryer’s Hotel and glanced down the boardwalk in search of her cousin. Instead of spotting Carrie, she saw a little girl with hair as pale as her own. Pulled loose from two braids and wisping around the child’s face, it glinted white in the sun. Pearl’s mother had told her daughter that a woman’s hair was her crowning glory. Pearl knew from experience it could also be a curse.
She turned back to the carriage intending to lift her son from her father’s arms. Before he could hand the baby to her, she heard an excited cry.
“Mama!”
Expecting to see another mother, she looked back at the little girl. What she saw stopped her heart. The child, with her pinafore flapping and a rag doll hooked in her elbow, was charging across the street. Behind her, Pearl saw a freight wagon about to make the turn. The girl hadn’t looked before stepping off the boardwalk, and the driver wouldn’t see her until he rounded the corner.
“Stop!” Pearl cried.
The girl ran faster. “Mama, wait!”
Unaware of the child, the freight driver shouted at the team of six mules to pick up their pace. As the beasts surged forward, Pearl hiked up her skirt and ran down the boardwalk. “Stay there!” she cried. “I’m coming for you.”
Instead of stopping, the child ran faster. The mules gained momentum and the wagon swayed. Pearl cried for the driver to stop, but he couldn’t hear her over the rattle of the wheels. The child, now halfway across the street, saw only the woman she believed to be her mother.
Praying she wouldn’t slip in the mud, Pearl dashed in front of the mules, each one snorting and chuffing with the weight of the load. The driver cursed and hauled back on the reins, but the wagon kept coming.
So did the child.
So did Pearl.
She could smell the mules. Puddles, mirroring the clouds, shook as the animals lumbered forward. With more speed than she rightly possessed, she dashed in front of the beasts, hooked her arm around the child and pulled her back from the wagon. Together they fell in a tangle of skirts and pinafores with Pearl on her belly. Her knees stung from hitting the dirt and she’d muddied her dress.
She didn’t give a whit about her knees, but the dress mattered. She planned to wear it to her interview at Miss Marlowe’s School for Girls. A woman in her position had to always look her best. One wrong impression and she’d be worse off than she’d been in Denver.
With her heart pounding, she raised her head and looked at the child. She saw eyes as blue as her own and hair that could have grown on her own head. The girl looked to be five years old, but there was nothing childlike about her expression as she clutched her doll to her chest. Like Pearl, she had the look of someone who’d learned not to hope…at least not too much.
Her voice squeaked. “Mama?”
“No, sweetie,” Pearl said. “I just look like her.”
The child’s mouth drooped. “You do.”
Pearl rocked back to her knees. Reaching down, she cupped the girl’s chin. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“What’s your name?”
“Sarah with an H.”
Pearl couldn’t help but smile. “You must be learning your letters.”
“I am. I go to school.”
Pearl wondered if she attended Miss Marlowe’s School, but other questions were more pressing. She pushed to her feet and offered Sarah her hand. “Who takes care of you?”
“My daddy.”
“Let’s find him,” Pearl replied.
Sarah looked at the ground. “He’s gonna be mad at me.”
Pearl had an angry thought of her own. What kind of father left a five-year-old alone on a busy street? The more she thought about the circumstances, the more irritated she became. Sarah could have been killed or maimed for life. Pearl’s problems paled in comparison, but she’d just ruined her best dress. Pale blue with white cuffs and silver buttons, it now had mud stains. She had another dress she could wear to the interview, but she’d stitched this one with her friends in Denver. The love behind it gave her confidence.
As she looked around for Sarah’s father, she saw the start of a crowd on the boardwalk. The driver, a stocky man with a bird’s nest of a beard, came striding down the street. When he reached her side, he swept off his black derby to reveal a bald head. “Are you okay, ma’am? Your little girl—I didn’t see her.”
She’s not mine. But Pearl saw no point in explaining. “We’re fine, sir. I saw what happened. You weren’t at fault.”
“Even so—”
“You can be on your way.”
He looked at Sarah as if she were a baby chick, then directed his gaze back to Pearl. “Pardon me, ma’am. But you should watch her better.”
Pearl’s throat tightened with a familiar frustration. She’d been in Cheyenne for twenty minutes and already she was being falsely accused. Memories of Denver assailed her…the whispers when her pregnancy started to show, the haughty looks before she’d taken refuge at a boarding house called Swan’s Nest. She’d gotten justice in the end, but she longed for a fresh start. When her cousin wrote about a teaching job in Cheyenne, Pearl had jumped at the chance for an interview.
Winning the position wouldn’t be easy. As an unwed mother, she had some explaining to do. Not even her cousin knew she had a baby, not because Pearl wanted to keep her son a secret, but because she couldn’t capture her thoughts in a letter. The two women didn’t know each other well, but their mothers had been sisters. Carrie Hart was Pearl’s age, single, a respected teacher and the daughter of one of Cheyenne’s founders. If Carrie spurned her, Pearl would be adrift in a hostile city. Even so, she refused to pretend to be a widow. More than anything, she wanted to be respectable. If she lied about her son, how could she respect herself? And if she couldn’t respect herself, how could anyone else? She had a simple plan. She’d tell the truth and trust God to make her path straight.
She had also planned to arrive in Cheyenne quietly. To her horror, a crowd had gathered and people were staring. She’d be lucky to avoid the front page of the Cheyenne Leader. Her father broke through the throng with her son in his arms. Even before she’d stepped out of the carriage, the baby had been hungry and wet. Any minute he’d start to cry.
“Pearl!” Tobias Oliver hurried to his daughter’s side. A retired minister, he’d once been her enemy. Now he lived for the grandson sharing his name. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Papa.” She touched her son’s head. “Take Toby to the room, okay?”
“But you need help.”
She shook her head. “I have to find Sarah’s father.”
As he looked at the child clutching her doll, his eyes filled with memories, maybe regret. Pearl had once shared Sarah’s innocence but not anymore. She’d been raped by a man named Franklin Dean, a banker and a church elder. Her father blamed himself for not protecting her.
“Go on, Papa,” she said. “I don’t want all this attention.”
When Tobias met her gaze, she saw the guilt he lived with every day. He nodded and headed for the hotel.
Squeezing Sarah’s hand, Pearl turned to the opposite side of the street where she saw twice as many people as before, almost all of them men. She couldn’t stand the thought of shouldering her way through the crowd. Most of the onlookers were gawking.
“Please,” she said. “Let us pass.”
A businessman removed his hat and bowed. A cowboy tried to step back, but the crowd behind him pressed forward. A third man whistled his appreciation and another howled like a coyote. She turned to go in the other direction, but another crowd had gathered. She heard more catcalls, another whistle.
Sarah buried her face against Pearl’s muddy skirt and clutched the folds. The child didn’t like being the object of so much attention especially after falling in the dirt. Neither did Pearl. She patted the girl’s head and mumbled assurances she didn’t feel. Her own breath caught in her throat. She had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. She was back in Franklin Dean’s buggy, fighting him off…. She whirled back to the first side of the street, the place where she expected to find Sarah’s father.
“Get back!” she shouted at the mob.
The crowd parted but not because of her. Every head had turned to a man shouting orders as he shoved men out of his way. As he shouldered past the cowboy who’d whistled, Pearl saw a broad-brimmed hat pulled low to hide his eyes, a clean-shaven jaw and a badge on a leather vest. She judged him to be six feet tall, lanky in build but muscular enough to command respect. He also had a pistol on his hip, a sure sign of authority. The city of Cheyenne, fighting both outlaws and vigilantes, had enacted a law prohibiting men from wearing guns inside the city limits. Foolishly Pearl had taken it as a sign of civility. Now she knew otherwise.
When the deputy reached the street, his eyes went straight to Pearl. They flared wide as if he recognized her, but only for an instant. Pearl thought of Sarah calling her “mama” and realized she looked even more like the girl’s mother than she’d thought. The man’s gaze narrowed to a scowl and she knew this man and his wife had parted with ugly words. Loathing snarled in his pale irises, but Pearl didn’t take his knee-jerk reaction personally. She often reacted to new situations the same way…to crowds and stuffy rooms, black carriages and the smell of a certain male cologne.
The deputy’s gaze slid to Sarah and he strode forward. When he reached the child’s side, he dropped to one knee, muddying his trousers as he touched the back of her head. “Sarah, honey,” he said softly. “Look at me, darlin’.”
Pearl heard Texas in his voice…and love.
The child peeked from the folds of her skirt. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I was bad.”
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, but her father wasn’t convinced. He ran his hand down the child’s back, looked at her muddy knees and inspected her elbows. Apart from the scare, Sarah and her doll were both fine. Pearl watched as he blew out a breath, then wiped the girl’s tears with his thumb. When Sarah turned to him, he cupped her chin. “You shouldn’t have left the store.”
He’d put iron in his voice, but Pearl knew bravado when she heard it. He’d been scared to death.
Sarah hid her face in Pearl’s skirt. “I know, Daddy. But I saw a puppy.”
The man frowned. “Sarah—”
“Then I saw her.” She raised her chin and stared at Pearl.
Instinctively Pearl cupped the back of Sarah’s head. She’d been close to grown when her own mother died, but she missed her every day, even more since Toby’s birth. If she’d ever caught a glimpse of Virginia Oliver in a crowd, she’d have acted just like Sarah.
The deputy pushed to his full height, giving her a closer look at his clean-shaven jaw. Most men in Cheyenne wore facial hair, but the deputy didn’t even sport a mustache. He had a straight nose, brown hair streaked with the sun and the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. If her life had been simpler, she’d have smiled at him, even flirted a bit. Instead she pulled her lips into an icy line. Until she secured the job at Miss Marlowe’s School, she didn’t want to speak with anyone.
He took off his hat, a sign of respect that made her belly quake because she longed to feel worthy of it. The intensity in his eyes had the same effect but for different reasons. He frightened her.
“I can’t thank you enough, miss.” His drawl rolled like a river, slow and unstoppable. “I was in the store. I had an eye on her, and then…” He sealed his lips. “The next thing I knew, someone said a child was down in the street.”
Pearl knew how he felt. Toby had suffered a bout of croup once, and she’d been worried to death. Her heart swelled with compassion, but she blocked it. “As you can see, your daughter’s fine. If you’ll excuse me—”
“But I owe you.”
“No, you don’t.” She tried to step back, but Sarah tightened her grip.
The man skimmed her dress the way he’d inspected his daughter for injuries. “Your dress is ruined. I’ll buy you a new one.”
“No!” She could only imagine what kind of talk that would cause.
Instead of backing off, the lawman thrust out his hand. “Forgive my lack of manners. I’m Matt Wiley, Deputy Sheriff.”
If she accepted the handshake, she’d have to give her name. She’d be trapped in a conversation she couldn’t have until she spoke with Carrie and the school board. The less she said to this man, the safer she’d be. She indicated her muddy glove. “I don’t want to dirty your hand. I have to go now.” Before he could argue, she pivoted and headed for the hotel.
“Wait!”
The cry came from Sarah. Every instinct told Pearl to hug the child goodbye, but she couldn’t risk a conversation with the girl’s father. Walking faster, she skirted a puddle and stepped on to the boardwalk. Thinking of Toby, her father and the new life she wanted for them all, she hurried to the hotel.

No way would Matt let Miss No Name walk away from him. He owed her for the dress and he always paid his debts. He scooped Sarah into his arms and settled her on his right hip. His left one sported a Colt Peacemaker in a cross-draw holster he’d worn for ten years. It had been a gift from Howard Cain, the confederate captain who’d welcomed a weary soldier into the ranks of the Texas Rangers. Matt had stopped being a Ranger, but he still liked the chase.
“Hold up,” he called as he followed the woman.
Miss No Name ignored him.
Fine, he thought, she didn’t want to talk to him. He didn’t want to speak with her, either. She looked enough like his wife—his former wife, he reminded himself—to be her sister, except Bettina had abandoned her daughter and Miss No Name had ruined her dress to save her. At the very least, he intended to pay for the gown. She could have it laundered or buy a new one, whichever she preferred.
First, though, he had to catch her. He tightened his grip on Sarah. “Hold on, darlin’. We’re playing horsey.”
She giggled and nestled against his neck. “Go fast, Daddy!”
Matt broke into a jog that brought him within three feet of Miss No Name. Just to hear Sarah’s laugh, a treasure he’d almost lost, he made a neighing sound. As she squealed with delight, the woman turned her head and gaped at him. He hadn’t seen a colder stare since Bettina left. Either she didn’t like horses or she didn’t like men. Matt didn’t care. He didn’t like blondes, so they were even except for the dress.
He reached her side in three steps. “Sorry to startle you.”
“What do you want?” she said coldly.
“Like I said, I owe you for the dress, either a new one or a good cleaning.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I say it is.”
Matt didn’t like owing favors. In this town, a man’s debts came back to haunt him. He’d learned that lesson his first week on the job when he’d let Jasper Kling give him a deal on a pair of boots. Never again. The merchant had expected special treatment for a measly six-bits off the already-inflated price.
Her eyes darted over his shoulder and down the street. Earlier he’d attributed her unease to the crowd of rowdy men. Now he wondered if trouble had followed her to Cheyenne. Matt didn’t give a hoot about a person’s past. Everyone in Cheyenne had a story, including him. But he cared very much about the here and now. He’d have to keep an eye on this woman.
Still tense, she looked back at his face. “If you must, you can pay for the laundering.”
“Fine.”
He set Sarah on the boardwalk, dug in his pocket and extracted a handful of coins. Before he could sort through the silver, Sarah grabbed the woman’s skirt and looked up. “Would you braid my hair?”
His daughter had caused enough trouble for one day. Matt gritted his teeth. “Sarah, don’t pester—”
“Pleeese,” she whined to the woman. “My daddy can’t do it.”
That was a fact. He could splice rope, shoot straight and smell trouble a mile away, but he couldn’t braid his little girl’s hair. The white strands slipped through his fingers just as Bettina had done a year ago. For Sarah’s sake, he wished he’d held on tighter. Instead of chasing Indians and outlaws with Captain Cain, and then dealing with the corruption of the Texas State Police, he should have stayed home and raised cattle. Maybe his wife wouldn’t have cheated on him, and they’d still be a family.
He didn’t miss Bettina at all, but Sarah did. His daughter needed a mother, someone who could make proper braids and teach her about life. A better man would have married to meet that need, but Matt couldn’t stand the thought of repeating the mistakes he’d made with Bettina. Neither did he think a sham of a marriage would benefit his daughter. They were doing just fine, and he intended to keep things as they were…except his daughter was clinging to this woman’s skirt and she looked so hungry for female attention that it made his chest hurt.
Pushing back old regrets, he touched Sarah’s shoulder. At the same instant, Miss No Name dropped to a crouch and clasped Sarah’s arms. Face to face, they looked like mother and daughter, mirror images separated only by time. Matt thought of Sarah’s book of fairy tales and wondered if a child’s dreams really could come true.
The woman spoke in a voice just for Sarah. “I wish I could do it, but we don’t have a brush.”
Sarah’s lower lip trembled.
Matt didn’t want to owe this woman another favor, but he’d swallow fire for his little girl. He also had a comb in his pocket, a tortoiseshell trinket shipped to Cheyenne from Boston. He’d learned to neaten up before doing business with busybodies like Jasper Kling. He took out the comb and held it in front of the woman’s nose. “Here.”
Looking both pleased and mistrustful, she plucked it from his fingers, straightened and clasped Sarah’s hand. “Let’s go in the hotel,” she said to his daughter. “We can sit in the corner of the lobby.”
Where people won’t see us.
She didn’t say the words, but Matt heard them. He glanced down the street, saw nothing suspicious and stepped in front of the females to open the heavy door to the hotel. As the woman guided Sarah inside, she skirted the desk and went to a group of chairs behind a pedestal holding a vase of dried flowers. Matt couldn’t stop his eyes from admiring the sway of her dress. The front of it was a mess, but the back looked brand-new. He didn’t know beans about fashion, but the bow at the small of her back made him think of tying knots…and untying them. Being a gentleman, he blocked the thought by silently whistling “Dixie,” especially the part about looking away.
Miss No Name sat on a brocade chair, set the comb in her lap and removed her gloves. “Now,” she said to Sarah. “Stand right in front of me.”
Looking solemn, Sarah squared her shoulders.
Matt stayed by the pedestal, watching as the woman freed the disheveled braids from their ribbons and went to work with the comb. He couldn’t stop himself from watching her hands. Maybe he’d learn something about braiding hair…at least that’s the lie he told himself. In truth, he found Miss No Name attractive in a way he’d sworn to forget. He’d never marry again. Not even for his daughter’s sake.
With a deft stroke, the woman parted Sarah’s hair down the middle, wrapped one half around her hand and pulled it tight. Matt made a mental note of her firm touch. He worried so much about hurting Sarah that he didn’t pull hard at all.
Miss No Name looked up and frowned. No one liked being watched, but she had an air of worry that went beyond natural reserve. She looked scared and angry. As a deputy, he had an obligation to find out why. As a man, he had instincts that went beyond duty. Unless he’d lost his ability to read people, this woman had a weight on her shoulders, one she couldn’t put down.
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.

Chapter Two
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.
Her father nudged the package with his index finger. “Open it.”
She felt as if it held snakes, but she tugged on the ribbon. The bow came loose and the paper unfolded in her hand. Instead of snakes, she found hair ribbons in a dozen shades of blue. The colors matched the sky in all seasons, all times of day. Some of them matched the dress she’d ruined saving Sarah. Others were the pale blue of her eyes.
Pearl would have known what to do with a snake. She’d have cut off its head with a shovel and flung it away. The hair ribbons struck her as both treacherous and lovely…but mostly lovely. Startled by the thought, she caught her breath.
Her father touched her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“I think you know.”
Tobias indicated the divan. “Sit with me, Pearl.”
“I should check Toby.”
He gave her a look she knew well. For ten years he’d pastored the biggest church in Denver. He’d learned when to bend and when to fight. Right now, he looked ready for a fight. Pearl gave up and sat next to him. “There’s nothing to say.”
“Yes, there is.”
Looking older than his fifty-eight years, he lifted a cobalt ribbon from the pile of silk and lace. “Look at it, Pearl. What do you see?”
She saw a pretty snake. It declared a man’s interest and tempted her with hope. To hide her feelings, she shrugged. “I see a ribbon.”
Her father held the silk within her grasp. “Touch it.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Because hope would sink its fangs into her flesh. Her mind would spin tales of princes and husbands, and she’d see Matt Wiley in her dreams. What woman wouldn’t be charmed by the deputy? He loved his daughter and did honorable work. His brown hair framed a lean face and his eyes were the color of new grass. They had a subtle sharpness, a sign of a fine mind, but they also looked steady and true.
Her father turned his wrist, causing the ribbon to shimmer and twist. Her fingers itched to touch it. Knowing Tobias wouldn’t budge until she surrendered, she lifted the ribbon from his hand. As the silk slid across her palm, she thought of braiding Sarah’s hair and telling the deputy to buy his daughter something pretty. Had he bought ribbons for Sarah, too? She hoped so.
Tobias gripped her hand. “We came to Cheyenne for a fresh start. If a man’s interested in you—”
“Papa!”
“I’m serious, Pearl.” He pushed to his feet, crossed to a mirror etched with leaves and faced her. “If your mother were alive, she’d know what to say. I’m not much good at woman talk, but I know one thing for certain.” He paused, daring her to ask and forcing her to listen.
“What’s that?” she finally said.
“A man sends a gift to a woman for just one reason.”
“He had one.” She nudged the card with her finger. “He’s saying thank-you.”
Her father harrumphed.
Pearl wanted to fire back a retort, but she couldn’t look her father in the eye. Deep down, she wanted to believe him. How would it feel to be properly courted? Blinking, she flashed back to Denver. Two days ago she’d caught the bouquet at her best friend’s wedding. She’d imagined—just for an instant—wearing a fancy dress and saying “I do” to a faceless man. That man wasn’t faceless now. He had green eyes.
Pearl placed the cobalt ribbon on top of the others. “I’m a daydreaming fool.”
“No, you’re not,” her father insisted.
Could he be right? Did she have a chance at love? Looking at the ribbons, she thought of all the things the gift could mean. Hair ribbons could be casual or personal, practical or romantic. She thought of the card and how he’d signed it. “Deputy Matt” echoed “Miss Pearl,” a sign that he’d understood her need for discretion and accepted it. She thought of the purpose in his eyes as he’d said goodbye. Were the ribbons more than a thank-you? Was he asking the first sweet question between a man and woman?
What if…
She didn’t know, but she wanted to find out. Never mind the fear chilling her feet. Never mind the threat of humiliation. Matt Wiley had called her a woman of uncommon courage. Like her father said, she’d come to Cheyenne to start a new life for her son. Most important of all, she had faith in the God of second chances. She touched the card with her fingertip, then looked up at her father. “I suppose I should send a thank-you note.”
“That would be very fitting.”
“It’s just…” She shrugged.
“Just what?” her father said gently.
“It’s hard to start over.”
He lowered his chin as if she were Sarah’s age. “That’s true, but we worship a God who loves his children. I can’t explain what happened to you, Pearl. It was hurtful and ugly and I’ll never forgive myself—”
“Don’t say that.” She didn’t blame her father for the violence she’d suffered. She blamed Franklin Dean for being evil.
He held up one hand. “Let me finish.”
She obeyed but only out of habit.
“God has a plan for your life,” he said. “It’s good, but you need the courage to walk that path. You can do it, Pearl. You’re brave and smart and as beautiful as your mother. Any man in Cheyenne would be blessed to have you for a wife.”
She wanted to believe him, but her father saw her through rose-colored lenses. When he kissed her good-night, he still called her “princess.” Even so, she smiled at him. “Thank you, Papa.”
“Now go write that note.”
Her stomach twisted. “I don’t know—”
“I do.” Tobias aimed his thumb at the secretary in the corner. “Get busy. We’ll ask the clerk to deliver it when we leave to see Carrie.”
“If you’re sure…”
“I’m positive.” He gave her a look he’d often used in the pulpit. “It’s about time you showed a little faith—both in God and in people.”
Pearl had no assurance Matt Wiley wouldn’t laugh at her note, but she had walked with the Lord as long as she could remember. “All right. I’ll do it.”
“Good.” Tobias glanced at the wall clock. “I’m going to finish that nap.”
As he left the sitting room, Pearl went to the secretary, opened the drawer and removed stationery, an inkwell and an elegant pen. She positioned the paper on the blotter, filled the well and wrote the note. Both formal and friendly, the wording struck her as just right and she blew the ink dry. On a whim, she added a P.S., then sealed the note and checked on Toby. Satisfied he’d stay asleep, she took the note to the front desk before she could change her mind about asking a “what if” of her own.

The instant Matt set foot in the sheriff’s office, his friend and partner, Dan Cobb, held up two envelopes and grinned. “Here you go, Romeo.”
Scowling, Matt snagged the letters. They were both written on ivory stationery and sealed with white wax. One displayed his name in a script he recognized as belonging to Sarah’s teacher. Miss Carrie Hart taught the youngest girls at Miss Marlowe’s School, and she frequently sent home glowing notes about his daughter. They often chatted when he met Sarah after school, and they’d become casual friends.
The other letter displayed pretty writing that said, “To Deputy Matt and Sarah.” Pearl must have gotten the hair ribbons.
Fighting a smile, he dropped down on his chair and started to open the letter from Pearl. As the seal popped, Dan’s chair squeaked. Matt looked up, caught his friend staring and scowled. “What are you looking at?”
Dan grinned. “Looks to me like a couple of pretty ladies have their eyes on you.”
Matt had no interest in ladies, pretty or otherwise. He held up the first envelope. “This one’s from Carrie Hart. She’s Sarah’s teacher.”
“I know Carrie.” Dan sounded wistful. “I see her at church.”
Matt saw a chance to take a friendly jab. “Judging by that hangdog look, you’re sweet on her.”
“What if I am?”
Matt huffed. “Beware, my friend. Marriage isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”
“That’s your opinion.”
“It’s the voice of experience.” He’d never forget quarreling with Bettina, how she’d cried when he’d left to go with the Rangers. He’d felt guilty for leaving and even worse the times he’d stayed.
Dan wagged his finger at the second envelope. “Who sent that one?”
“None of your business.”
“Sure it is,” Dan replied. “We’re partners.”
Matt considered the deputy his best friend, but he didn’t want an audience when he read the notes. He gave Dan a pointed stare. “Don’t you have some outlaws to catch?”
“No, but I hear you had a run-in with Jasper.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
The quarrel especially rankled because he hadn’t been on duty when Jasper summoned him. Matt wore his badge and gun all the time, but he’d taken the morning off to be with Sarah. Last night she’d fussed about his long hours, so he’d promised to spend the morning with her. To his chagrin, she’d wanted to play dolls. Matt wasn’t much on dolls, so he’d suggested a tea party with real cake at Madame Fontaine’s bakery. Halfway to the shop, Jasper had waylaid him and Sarah had run off.
Matt told Dan everything except the part about Sarah’s braids. Neither did he mention his trip to the dress shop. After choosing the ribbons—all the blue ones he could see—he’d arranged for a delivery to Pearl, then left Sarah eating cookies with Madame Fontaine while he patched up things with Jasper. It hadn’t gone well.
“Jasper’s a nuisance,” Dan complained. “What did he want this time?”
“Same thing as before.”
“The Peters kid?”
“You guessed it.” Matt propped his boots on the desk. He didn’t usually sit that way, but something about Jasper inspired bad manners. “Teddy Peters swiped some candy off the counter. My gut tells me Jasper put it out to tempt him. The kid bolted, and now Jasper wants him tossed in jail.”
Dan shook his head. “Seems like a talk with his folks would be enough.”
“That’s what I did. Teddy’s mother made him pay, and he’s doing extra chores.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“Jasper didn’t think so.” Matt could hardly believe what he was about to say. “He threatened to have my badge.”
“He what?”
“He thinks I’m too soft for the job.”
“That fool!”
“Don’t waste your breath.” Matt swung his boots off the desk. “Jasper’s a thorn, but I’ve dealt with worse.”
Dan stayed silent a moment too long. “Don’t underestimate him, Wiley. The man’s got a dark side.”
Matt’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Secrets,” Dan answered. “Jasper’s got one, and I’m willing to bet he’d do anything to keep it.”
Matt knew about secrets. He had one of his own. “Tell me.”
“You know the hog ranch north of town?”
Dan wasn’t talking about farm animals. Hog ranch was slang for the lowest form of prostitution. Women in that regrettable line of work had often taken a downhill slide from fancy brothels to run-down saloons. As they lost their looks and their health, they slid further and ended up at wretched establishments located on the outskirts of town. Such places were called hog ranches, and they attracted men and women who couldn’t sink much lower. As a Ranger, Matt had walked into such places in search of wanted men. “Are you saying Jasper—”
“Yep.”
Not a week passed that Jasper didn’t send a high-and-mighty letter to the newspaper about prostitution. Being caught at a hog ranch would shame him more than anything. Matt had to hold back a snort. “The man’s a flaming hypocrite. How’d you hear about it?”
“Ben Hawks told me before he left.”
A fellow deputy, Ben had left town shortly after Matt arrived. An aunt in St. Louis had died and left him a small fortune. Matt hadn’t questioned the timing, but he did now. Had Jasper bought the man’s silence?
Dan steepled his fingers. “After Ben left, Jasper started up with those letters. Just before that, the other trouble started.”
Matt’s brow furrowed. “You mean Jed Jones.”
“And the fire at the livery.”
A month ago Matt had found Jones, a suspected horse thief, hanging from a tree in Grass Valley. A few days later the livery had been torched. Some folks thought the owner had bought stolen horses. Last week the Silver Slipper Dance Hall had been the target. Riders wearing masks and black derbies had shot out the windows while chanting “Go! Go! Go!”
Matt recognized the work of vigilantes, but who were they? And why were they striking now? Both questions had possible answers. Horse thieves had raided Troy Martin’s place three times since August. Another rancher, Howard Moreland, had lost a prize stallion. The men were friends and active in the Golden Order. Matt didn’t care for the civic organization at all. The group tended to make unreasonable demands like the one Jasper had made about Teddy. Chester Gates, a banker, served as president. Jasper belonged to the G.O., too. He’d been a founding member.
The news about Jasper’s secret made Matt wonder about the trouble at the Silver Slipper. What better way for the shopkeeper to hide his visit to the hog ranch than by attacking another place of prostitution? Chester Gates also had a beef related to the dance hall. The owner, Scottie Fife, had outbid him for some prime land. Whoever owned the property would make a fortune if the railroad expanded its headquarters.
Matt had taken “Go! Go! Go!” to be a command, but perhaps it had been a calling card. Everyone in Cheyenne knew G.O. stood for “Golden Order.” If these men had gone bad—a strong possibility, Matt had seen corruption in Texas—they had to be stopped before innocent people suffered.
Matt knew the cost of such violence and not as a victim. As long as he lived, he’d be ashamed of what he’d done in Virginia. Until that night, he’d been a man who prayed. Not anymore. He looked at Dan. “We need to keep an eye on the Golden Order.”
“I agree.” The deputy gave a sad shake of his head. “Jed Jones was a liar and a thief, but he didn’t deserve a necktie party.”
A lynching… Matt’s blood turned to ice. With every nerve in his body, he wished someone had stopped him and his men the night they’d tossed a rope over the branch of a tree. He couldn’t change what had happened to Amos McGuckin, but he could stop it from happening again. “We’ll stop these men. The only question is how.”
“Any ideas?”
“Not yet, but I’ll figure it out.”
Dan went to fetch his hat. “We won’t catch anyone sitting in the office. I’m going to take a walk.”
“Watch your step,” Matt replied.
As Dan passed Matt’s desk, he noticed the letters and put his hand over his heart. “Romeo…Romeo…”
“Shut up,” Matt joked.
Dan put on his hat. “You ought to take one of those ladies to see Romeo and Juliet at the Manhattan.”
The new theater offered fine plays and bad acting. The performance of Romeo and Juliet was said to be particularly awful. “Forget it,” Matt answered.
Chuckling, Dan walked out of the office, leaving Matt alone with the notes. He knew what the one from Carrie would say. Yesterday she’d invited him to bring Sarah to have supper with some cousins of hers, a minister and his daughter arriving from Denver. He figured the daughter was a little girl who liked to play with dolls. The note would be a reminder to come at six o’clock. The thought of an evening with a minister set Matt’s teeth on edge, but he could tolerate anything for a couple of hours. Except church, he reminded himself. He hadn’t set foot in a house of God for ten years, and he didn’t plan to change his habits.
He ignored Carrie’s letter and lifted the one from Pearl. He liked how she’d called him Deputy Matt, echoing the way he’d signed the card with the ribbons. Pleased, he peeled off the wax and read.
Dear Deputy Matt and Sarah,
Thank you for the beautiful ribbons. I’ve never seen lovelier shades of blue and will enjoy them very much. You’ve made a newcomer to Cheyenne feel welcome indeed.
Regards, Miss Pearl
Below the curly writing, she’d added a P.S. in block printing. It read, “Sarah, if you’d like me to braid your hair again, I’d be happy to do it.”
His daughter couldn’t read the words, but she’d know the letters.
Matt read the letter again, grinning like a fool because he’d charmed Miss Pearl out of her shell. Why he cared, he didn’t know. Not only did she have blond hair, he’d been straight with Dan when he said marriage wasn’t for him.
He opened the note from Carrie and saw exactly what he expected. Her cousins had arrived and were coming for supper. Good, he thought. Sarah needed a friend.
Matt glanced at the clock. He had a couple of hours before he had to be at Carrie’s house, so he opened the office ledger and recorded his conversation with Jasper. If vigilantes were at work in Cheyenne, they had to be stopped. And if Jasper and Gates were behind it, they had to be brought to justice. Matt wished someone had stopped him that night. He wished for a lot of things he couldn’t have…a mother for Sarah, a good night’s sleep. Maybe someday he’d be able to forget. Until then, he had a job to do.

Chapter Three
As the hired carriage neared her cousin’s house, Pearl considered the neighborhood. Cheyenne still had the ragged feel of a frontier town, but railroad executives and entrepreneurs had brought their families with the hope of bringing a touch of civility. Carrie’s father had been among the Union Pacific leaders. An engineer by trade, Carlton Hart had built a fine house for his wife and daughter. Tragically, he’d died two years ago in a blasting accident. A few months later, his wife had succumbed to influenza.
Rather than go back east, Carrie had taken a position at Miss Marlowe’s School for Girls. Pearl hoped to carve out a similar place for herself, but she had no illusions about her chances. Toby, swaddled in blue and snug in her arms, called her character into question. Some people would gossip about her out-of-wedlock child. Others would shun her. She knew from her experience in Denver that only a few would be kind. Without Carrie’s support, Pearl didn’t have a chance of being hired as a teacher.
As the carriage rolled to a halt, her father touched her arm. “You can still change your mind about explaining to Carrie. I’ll talk to her first.”
“No, Papa.”
She hadn’t come to Cheyenne to be a coward. If she couldn’t face her cousin, how could she manage an interview with the trustees of Mrs. Marlowe’s School? Meeting Carrie would be good practice. That’s why she’d worn her second-best dress, a blue-gray silk with a lace jabot. For added courage, she’d tied three of Deputy Matt’s ribbons into a fancy bow and pinned them to her hat. Not only did they complement her dress, they also matched Toby’s baby blanket.
Tobias climbed out of the carriage, paid the driver and offered his hand. “Are you ready, princess?”
She wished he’d stop using the nickname. It made her feel small when she needed to be adult. She’d have spoken up, but her father looked as nervous as she felt. Being careful not to jostle Toby, she took her father’s hand and climbed out of the carriage. The door to the house opened and she saw a young woman with a heart-shaped face and brown hair arranged in a neat chignon.
“Pearl! Uncle Tobias!” Beaming with pleasure, Carrie hurried down the path. “I’m so glad you’re—” She stopped in midstep, staring at the bundle in Pearl’s arms. “You have a baby.”
“I do.”
Her brows knit in confusion. “I didn’t know you were married.”
“I’m not.” Pearl took a breath. “I wanted to tell you in person. A letter just didn’t…I couldn’t…” She bit her lip to keep from rambling.
As Carrie stared in shock, Pearl fought to stay calm. First reactions, even bad ones, meant nothing. She had them all the time, especially to men who reminded her of Franklin Dean. A person’s second response was what mattered.
Carrie’s gaze dipped to the baby, lingered, then went back to Pearl. She didn’t speak, but her eyes held questions.
Pearl didn’t want to explain herself in the street. She wanted the privacy of four walls, the dignity she’d been denied by the man who’d taken her virtue. Thinking of the ribbons on her hat, a declaration of her courage, she squared her shoulders. “I’ll explain everything, but could we go inside?”
Carrie touched her arm. “It’ll be all right, cousin.”
Pearl’s throat tightened.
“Whatever happened, we’re family.”
“You don’t even know—”
“I know you,” Carrie insisted. “We’ve been writing for months now. Besides, our mothers were sisters.”
Tears pushed into Pearl’s eyes. No matter what happened, she had a friend.
“Don’t cry,” Carrie said. “You’ll get all puffy.”
As if being puffy were the worst of her problems… Pearl laughed out loud. She tried to speak but hiccupped instead. As she covered her mouth, Carrie pulled her into a hug. The gesture shot Pearl back to Swan’s Nest where Adie Clarke, now Adie Blue, had opened her home and her heart. Mary, another boarder, had taught Pearl to be bold. Bessie and Caroline had delivered her baby and proved that a faithful woman could survive any heartache.
Courage, from her friends and from the ribbons, gave her the strength to spell out the facts for Carrie. “I was attacked by a man I trusted. I refuse to call him Toby’s father.”
Carrie hugged her as hard as she could. “You poor dear!”
Eager to get past the ugliness, Pearl blurted the facts. She’d gone for a buggy ride with Franklin Dean, the man she’d expected to marry. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, he forced himself on her and left her with child. He’d demanded marriage, but Pearl had refused. Instead she’d taken refuge at Swan’s Nest, a boarding house for women in trouble.
By the time she finished the story, Carrie had guided her up the steps and into the foyer. Her father had followed at a distance, giving them time to talk. As he approached, Pearl gave him a watery smile. “We’re going to be all right.”
“More than all right,” Carrie insisted.
Relief brightened Tobias’s silvery eyes, but the creases edging his mouth had deepened. “We’re grateful to you, Carrie.”
The brunette waved off the praise. “We’ll talk about the school over supper. I’ve invited a friend. I hope that’s all right.”
“Of course.” Pearl loved the women at Swan’s Nest. She hoped to make good friends in Cheyenne.
Her cousin’s eyes sparkled. “His name is Matt Wiley.”
Pearl gasped.
“Don’t worry.” Carrie reached for her hand. “I know you’re in a delicate situation, but Matt’s not one to judge. He might even help us. His little girl goes to Miss Marlowe’s.”
Tobias touched Pearl’s back. “We’ve met Deputy Wiley.”
“You have?” Carrie’s brows arched.
As Tobias told the story about the freight wagon, Pearl’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, not with humility at his praise, but because of the note she’d sent. The ribbons had been a thank-you, nothing more. Even worse, she’d flirted with a man her cousin seemed to like. Deputy Matt—Deputy Wiley, she reminded herself—would be here any minute. The ribbons had to come off her hat now.
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.
“Matt?”
He turned back to Carrie and saw a sweet smile. He truly appreciated the interest she’d taken in Sarah. The preacher’s daughter hadn’t been a little girl like he’d expected, but Sarah would enjoy a fancy dinner with feminine touches. He could see why Dan liked Carrie. She had a good heart and generous nature. And his friend had no reservations about marriage.
Pleased for Dan, he felt good as Carrie led him into the parlor. She sat on the divan, so he took the armchair next to Reverend Oliver. Sarah sat at his feet with her doll in her lap, talking to Annie as if she were a real girl. Her loneliness punched Matt in the gut. So did Pearl’s arrival in the parlor. Instead of the hat and ribbons, he saw a braid wrapped so tight he wondered if her scalp hurt.
Holding Toby, she scanned the room for a place to sit. Carrie patted the divan. “Sit with me. I want to hold the baby.”
Pearl sat and handed over her son. Cuddling him, Carrie looked at Matt and smiled. He liked babies, so he smiled back. He wanted Pearl to know he didn’t hold her indiscretion against her, so he studied Toby a long time, then said, “He looks like you.”
When she beamed a mother’s smile, Matt recalled the joy of being a family. For a short time, life with Bettina had been good. Pearl made him long for things he couldn’t have, things he didn’t want because he’d be a bad husband. At the same time, he enjoyed pulling her out of her shell. Wise or not, he wanted to know more about her. As the four of them chatted about the train ride from Denver, Matt gauged her expression. When she looked relaxed, he ventured a question.
“What brings you to Cheyenne?” He’d addressed the question to both Pearl and her father, but his gaze stayed on Pearl.
When she stiffened, Carrie answered for her. “Pearl’s going to teach at Miss Marlowe’s School.”
“That sounds rewarding.”
“I hope so.” She knotted her hands in her lap. “I don’t have the job yet. I’ll be interviewed first.”
“You’ll do fine.” Carrie patted Toby’s back. “The interview with the school board is next Tuesday. That’ll give us time to meet with Miss Marlowe. She’s going to love you.”
“You’ll do great,” Matt added.
He tugged on Sarah’s braid, a reminder to Pearl that she’d risked her life for a child. At the same moment, Toby fussed. The cry brought another truth to light. A single woman with an out-of-wedlock baby would have some explaining to do. He didn’t know if the people of Cheyenne would look past her indiscretion. Matt wanted to help her and he had the means. If he wrote a letter describing how she’d saved Sarah, surely the board would see her true character and forgive her past mistakes.
When Pearl cooed to soothe him, the baby wiggled and reached for her. Carrie scooted toward Pearl and handed him back. “I think he wants his mama.”
Pearl propped Toby against her shoulder. In spite of the difficulty the baby posed, her smile turned radiant. Matt’s belly clenched again. Pearl loved her son far more than Bettina had loved Sarah.
Carrie stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll check with the cook about supper.”
“Can I help?” Pearl asked
“No, but Sarah can.” Carrie smiled at his daughter, still glued to his leg. “Would you and Annie like to see what’s for dessert?”
Sarah needed all the female attention she could get, so he patted her back. “Go on, sweetheart.”
“Don’t tell your daddy.” Carrie feigned a whisper. “But I baked cookies. I don’t think tasting just one will spoil your supper.”
Ah, temptation! The war waged on Sarah’s face until the cookie won. She pushed to her feet. “I like cookies.”
With Annie in tow, she crossed the parlor. Carrie guided her out the door, leaving Matt to consider how different this day could have been. If Sarah had been hit by the freight wagon, he’d have been burying her instead of waiting for a good meal. He’d thanked Pearl with the ribbons, but he still owed her a favor. The interview at Miss Marlowe’s School gave him an opportunity and he decided to take it.
“I don’t know how much it will help,” he said. “But I’d be glad to write a letter to the trustees about what happened today. We haven’t been acquainted long, but what you did proves you’ll be a good teacher.”
She bristled. “Thank you, Deputy. But no.”
“Why not?”
“My situation is…complicated.”
He’d figured that out already. “So?”
Tobias cleared his throat. “Why would you offer? You barely know my daughter.”
“I know her better than you think.” Matt spoke to the reverend but kept his eyes on Pearl. “Not many people would do what she did today. I owe her.” He’d told the truth, but there was more to his reasoning. Guilt for what he’d done in the war never left him. Every time he helped someone, his conscience eased a bit. By helping Pearl, he’d sleep tonight instead of tossing like he usually did.
She looked at him with hope and hesitation. “I appreciate the offer. It’s just that…” She shook her head.
“You want your privacy,” he finished for her.
“Yes.”
“I understand about private matters.” He flashed a grin he hoped would be roguish. “If you don’t ask questions, neither will I.”
If Pearl knew he didn’t hold her son against her, maybe she’d accept his help. If she accepted his help, he could feel good about paying her back. He didn’t know who had fathered her baby, or why the man hadn’t married her, but he knew how it felt to live with a bad decision. Hoping to persuade her, he gentled his voice. “I’m not the most influential man in Cheyenne. The letter might not change any minds, but it won’t hurt, either.”
Pearl looked at her father.
He gave a crisp nod. “Say yes, princess.”
Matt smiled at the nickname. He didn’t like ministers, but he was impressed by Reverend Oliver. The man clearly loved his daughter in spite of her mistake. Pearl, though, looked mildly irked at the childish moniker.
She turned to Matt. “Thank you, Deputy. I accept.”
“My pleasure.”
She smiled, then blushed and looked away as if she’d committed a crime. Matt had no idea what she was thinking, but he liked knowing he could make her grin…and blush. The thought gave him pause. He had no business flirting with Pearl Oliver, except he liked her and she’d worn his ribbons. Not only did she make him want to whistle “Dixie,” he admired her integrity. Matt didn’t know what to make of his wayward thoughts, but he couldn’t deny a simple truth. He liked Pearl Oliver far more than was wise.

Chapter Four
“Carrie!” Pearl cried. “It’s lovely.”
The women were in the parlor ready to leave for the meeting with Miss Marlowe. In the middle of the room sat a baby carriage. Pearl had never seen such a fine buggy. Narrow spokes graced the large metal wheels, and powder blue satin lined the wicker basket. Earlier, when Carrie announced she had a gift for Toby, Pearl hadn’t known what to expect.
“Do you like it?” Carrie asked.
“I love it.” Pearl pulled her cousin into a hug. “You’ve been so kind. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done.”
Not only had Carrie arranged a private meeting with Miss Marlowe, but she’d also invited Pearl and her father to move out of the hotel and live with her. Pearl now had the pleasure of Carrie’s company and the benefit of a housekeeper and nanny. Martha Dinwiddie, a widow, came daily to cook and clean. When she’d set eyes on Toby, she’d vowed to spoil him like a grandson. With Martha’s help, Pearl and Carrie had aired out the rooms on the second floor. While beating rugs and laundering bed linens, they’d become as close as sisters.
Carrie touched the wooden handle of the carriage. “I know you planned to leave Toby with Martha, but I think we should take him.”
Pearl’s nerves prickled. “Are you sure?”
“Miss Marlowe loves babies.”
“But this is an interview.”
“Not exactly,” Carrie replied. “We’re going to her house, not the school. Toby can sleep in the carriage. If he gets fussy, I’ll hold him.”
Pearl had mixed feelings about going out in public with her son. She wanted the world to know she had a beautiful baby boy, but his lack of a father raised questions she didn’t want to answer. Today, though, she had to answer them for Miss Marlowe. Having Carrie at her side made the decision easier. She refused to be ashamed of her child. “We’ll do it.”
Her cousin beamed a smile. “Get Toby. I’ll meet you outside.”
Pearl hurried up the stairs. By the time she returned with the baby, Carrie had the carriage pointed down the street. Pearl set her son on the cushion and tucked a blanket around him. She’d nursed him earlier and hoped he’d be content. Keeping him fed and happy while she taught was a big concern, but she had a plan. Carrie’s house was a short walk from the school. She could hurry home during lunch. In a pinch, he’d be satisfied with goat’s milk she’d keep in the ice box.
Carrie looped her arm around Pearl’s elbow. “Are you ready?”
“I have to be.”
Steeling herself for curious neighbors, Pearl pushed the carriage down the street. As they bumped along, Toby opened his little mouth and found a new sound. He sounded like a tiny locomotive. Laughing, Pearl touched his cheek.
Carrie turned wistful. “He’s wonderful, Pearl. I can’t wait to have a baby of my own.”
Toby had come at a cost, but Pearl loved him without shame. “It’s the best feeling in the world.”
“I want a huge family,” Carrie declared.
A long time ago, Pearl had felt the same way. “Three boys and three girls?”
“Maybe.” She sighed. “First I need a husband, and Matt Wiley doesn’t know I’m alive.”
Pearl had to agree with her cousin’s assessment. While preparing the bedrooms, they’d spoken at length about Matt. Carrie had met him in September, the first day of school when he’d brought Sarah. They often chatted, but he hadn’t done more than express appreciation for her interest in his daughter. Thanks to watching Adie and Josh at Swan’s Nest, Pearl knew what love looked like. Matt had been friendly to Carrie, but he didn’t look smitten.
At least not when he looked at Carrie. To Pearl’s chagrin, she’d seen a spark in his eyes when he’d noticed the ribbons, and again at dinner when she’d passed the potatoes. Not that his mild interest in her mattered. As far as Pearl was concerned, Matt belonged to Carrie.
A gust of wind tugged at their skirts. Carrie tightened the shawl around her shoulders. “I wish I knew what to do. Matt said more at supper than he’s ever said before.”
“Really?”
“You impressed him. I’m glad he’s writing a letter.”
Pearl had told her cousin about Matt’s offer after he left. Carrie had sung his praises, and the women had talked about the evening for hours. True to his word, Matt hadn’t asked a single nosy question. Instead they’d all shared stories about children and growing up. Sarah had glowed with the attention, and Pearl had been happy to show off Toby. They’d all agreed he was exceptionally bright and destined to be president of the United States. Sarah had announced she wanted to be a teacher at Miss Marlowe’s School.
Pearl hadn’t been that relaxed in a year. “Matt definitely enjoyed the meal.”
“I guess that’s a start.”
“I hope so.” She meant it. More than anything, Pearl wanted Carrie to be happy.
Her cousin twisted the ends of the shawl. “It’s just that Matt doesn’t see me. I’m nothing but Sarah’s teacher.”
“Maybe he’s been hurt,” Pearl said. “Do you know what happened to Sarah’s mother?”
Carrie’s mouth formed a grim line. “They’re divorced. She left him. She left Sarah, too.”
“I can’t imagine—”
“Neither can I.” Carrie leaned into the wind. “He told me so I wouldn’t say something awkward to Sarah.”
Pearl couldn’t imagine a woman abandoning her child, though for a short time during her pregnancy, she’d considered giving up Toby for adoption. In those dark days, she’d feared Franklin Dean and she’d had no way to support herself. Her friends at Swan’s Nest had come to her rescue and she’d be forever grateful.
Carrie broke into her thoughts. “Matt’s wife broke his heart when she left. You can see it in his eyes.”
Pearl understood too well. She’d seen that look when they’d first met. “How long ago was it?”
“A year or so.” As they turned toward the school, Carrie squinted against the sun. “I know Matt likes me. He’s just scared. He needs to know I’d never hurt him.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t.”
Carrie bit her lip, then released it. “He needs convincing, that’s all.”
Pearl didn’t doubt her cousin’s sincerity, only her reasoning. Matt hadn’t shown even a spark of interest. “I don’t know.”
“I do,” Carrie insisted. “Matt needs a push.”
Pearl loved her cousin, but she had strong feelings about pushing anyone. Even before the attack, she’d been pressured by Franklin Dean and she’d resented it. She considered sharing her doubts with Carrie, but what did she know about men and courtship? Her perspective was skewed and always would be. Carrie’s instincts had to be better than her own. “What do you have in mind?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Any ideas?”
“Not a one.”
Carrie’s eyes twinkled. “How about a supper party? I could invite a few people over.”
Pearl couldn’t bear the thought. Carrie would invite single men. They’d tease and flirt with her.
“It’s perfect!” Carrie declared. “You’re new in town. The party will be in your honor.”
“No, Carrie. I’m not ready for something like that.”
“Please?” She made a winsome face.
How could Pearl say no? She owed Carrie for the food on her table, the roof over her head. She wanted to say yes, but she croaked with panic. “I’ll think about it.”
“It’ll be great,” Carrie insisted. “It’s just what Matt needs. And you, too!”
Right now, Pearl needed to collect her thoughts. They’d reached the school. Behind the main building she saw a cottage. She tightened her grip on the handle of the carriage. “Is that Miss Marlowe’s house?”
“It is,” Carrie answered. “Isn’t it charming?”
Pearl loved the little house. Ivy climbed the porch railing, and the gabled roof boasted a turret. As they walked up the path with the baby carriage, Miss Marlowe herself came out the door. Pearl saw a woman in her forties with chestnut hair and ivory skin. Petite and wearing a pea-green dress, she looked more like a leprechaun than the founder of a prestigious girls’ academy. Pearl relaxed, but only until the carriage hit a rut and Toby started to fuss.
“Oh dear,” she murmured. If he didn’t settle, she’d have to pick him up. Meeting Miss Marlowe with her son tucked in the carriage would have been challenging. Meeting her with a crying infant in her arms made Pearl shake.
Miss Marlowe greeted them with a wave. “Hello, ladies!”
“Be brave.” Carrie touched her hand. “She’s going to love you.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
Carrie shot her a look of confidence. “I’ll still love you, and so will Toby. Don’t be afraid. We’re in this together.”
Pearl squeezed her hand. “Thank you, cousin.”
Carrie waved a greeting to Miss Marlowe. “This is my cousin, Pearl Oliver. We have someone very special for you to meet.”
Thinking of the hair ribbons—a gift to a woman of uncommon courage—Pearl lifted her squawking baby out of the carriage. Mercifully he found his fist and started to suck. As Carrie moved the carriage into a shady spot, Pearl climbed the stairs alone and faced Miss Marlowe.
“This is my son,” she said quietly. “I’ll tell the story now, but I won’t repeat it. A year ago I was attacked by a man I trusted. I was—”
“Oh, child.”
Miss Marlowe’s pale eyes asked questions—the question—and Pearl answered with a nod. The woman touched her cheek, then lowered her hand, leaving a warm spot that felt empty. Pearl’s heart turned to stone. Sympathy didn’t mean Miss Marlowe would approve of her desire to teach.
Carrie joined them on the porch. “We wanted you to know Pearl’s circumstances before the board meeting.”
“Of course.” Miss Marlowe indicated the door. “Come inside, girls. We’ll talk over tea and scones. I made them myself.”
Carrie gave Pearl an encouraging smile. “Miss Marlowe is known for her scones.”
The older woman indicated a cane rocker. “Have a seat, dear. New mothers need their rest. Carrie and I will bring the cups.”
“Thank you,” Pearl managed.
She sat and put the rocker into motion. The rhythm delighted Toby and he kicked for the fun of it. Arching back, he gave her his first-ever smile. Happy tears pushed into Pearl’s eyes. She longed to share the moment with a husband, but her friends would have to do. She’d tell Carrie on the way home, and tonight she’d write to everyone at Swan’s Nest.
Miss Marlowe arrived with the tea service and placed it on a low table. Carrie added a plate of scones and a pot of raspberry jam. After serving the refreshments, Miss Marlowe sat tall on a chair that resembled a throne. She studied Pearl for several seconds. “Let me be frank, dear.”
“Of course.”
“I’ve reviewed your application and am satisfied with your qualifications. Carrie has provided a wonderful reference for you. As for your son, I have no doubt you’ve been victimized. In fact, I greatly admire your forthright handling of the situation. A lesser woman would lie to save face. You chose an honorable path. Not the easy one, mind you. But the right one.”
Pearl’s belly started to unknot. “I did, and I have no regrets.” Toby burrowed his head against her neck. She loved the tickle of his hair.
Carrie cradled the teacup in both hands. “We understand Pearl’s situation will raise eyebrows.”
Miss Marlowe’s eyes twinkled. “I’m quite accustomed to raising eyebrows.”
Carrie grinned. “I think you enjoy it.”
“I do,” the woman declared. “So let’s do some politicking. There are five board members including myself. We need three votes. I should be able to twist my nephew’s arm, but the third vote will be a problem.”
Pearl’s heart soared and crashed in the same breath. She’d earned Miss Marlowe’s support, but she had a fight ahead of her. As Carrie and Miss Marlowe debated the options, Pearl heard references to Chester Gates and Lady Eugenia. Both women thought Lady Eugenia could be persuaded, but that Mr. Gates would be difficult. Carrie named the fifth board member. “What about Jasper Kling?”
Miss Marlowe grimaced. “The man annoys me.”
“Who is he?” Pearl asked.
Carrie set down her cup. “He owns a shop on Dryer Street. I’m not ready to write him off.”
Miss Marlowe wrinkled her brows. “I must admit, I don’t know Jasper well. Why do you think he’ll bend in our direction?”
“He went to church with my parents.”
“I see.” Miss Marlowe sipped her tea. “You’re hoping he’ll respect Pearl’s refusal to lie.”
“Yes.”
“He might.” She set down the cup. “Jasper’s quite determined to build moral character among our girls. Just last week he championed the purchase of McGuffey Readers for the entire school.”
Pearl had fond memories of the textbook. The primer was full of Bible stories, moral tales and lessons for life. If Jasper Kling believed in the principles of truth and honesty, he just might support her. “There’s always hope,” she said to Miss Marlowe. “I’ll have to persuade him at the interview.”
Toby kicked and the women chuckled. Pearl saw envy in Carrie’s eyes and something deeper in Miss Marlowe’s. Maybe regret. The older woman offered the scones. “I’ll speak to the trustees myself. You won’t have to tell your story, but you might have to answer questions.”
“Of course.”
After Pearl took a scone, Miss Marlowe set down the plate. “You have two letters of reference. One from Carrie and one from Reverend Joshua Blue. Do you know anyone in Cheyenne?”
Before Pearl could answer, Carrie told the story of Sarah’s rescue from the freight wagon and Matt’s offer to write a letter.
“Excellent,” Miss Marlowe replied. “A letter from a parent will carry weight. He’s new to Cheyenne, but he’s respected.
Carrie looked at Pearl. “It’s going to work out, cousin. You’ll see.”
Pearl hoped so, but she felt like Sarah alone in the middle of the street staring at a team of mules. Needing to be brave, she thought of the ribbons. Matt belonged to Carrie, but Pearl valued his friendship. Hopefully, his letter would tip the scales in her favor.

Matt didn’t like cooking supper, but he did it for Sarah. He liked washing dishes even less, but it had to be done. As he dumped the scrub basin out the back door, he thought of his little girl tucked in bed, wrapped in the pink quilt she’d clutched all the way from Texas. The blanket no longer reached her toes, but the fabric still held the softness of a mother’s touch.
As he shook the basin dry, he thought of his last chore for the evening. This morning he’d bought stationery and a bottle of ink. All day he’d composed the letter for Pearl in his head, but nothing sounded right. With her interview just two days away, he had to deliver the letter tomorrow. He didn’t regret his offer. He just wished he knew what to say.
He looked at the sunset and thought of her cheeks, flushed pink as she weighed his offer to write the letter. He stared up at the sky, a medium blue that melted into dusk. He thought of the ribbons and felt good that he’d brightened her day. Inspired, he went back into the house, stowed the basin under the counter and fetched the stationery and ink from the shelf where he’d put them out of Sarah’s reach. He sat at the table, smoothed a sheet of paper, uncorked the bottle and lifted the pen. In bold strokes he wrote the date, then added, “To Whom It May Concern.”
He wrinkled his brow.
He scratched his neck.
He’d have been more comfortable throwing a drunk in jail, but he’d made a promise and he’d keep it. He inked the pen and wrote, “It’s my pleasure to provide a letter of reference for Miss Pearl Oliver.”
So far, so good. He dipped the pen again, wiped the excess and described how she’d run in front of the wagon to save Sarah. As the nib scratched against the paper, he relived the rattle of the wagon. He imagined his little girl lying in the mud and Pearl protecting her with her own body.
He owed this woman far more than a letter. Not only had she saved Sarah, she’d restored a sliver of his faith in human beings, even in women with blond hair. Bettina had thrown Sarah to the wolves. Pearl would have died to save her. The thought spurred his hand and he told the story with ease. By the time he finished, he couldn’t imagine anyone not hiring her. In closing, he described her as loyal, honest, dedicated and kind. After the way she’d handled the awkwardness of the ribbons, he believed every word.
He blew the ink dry, then closed his eyes. As he rubbed the kink in his neck, his mind drifted to Jed Jones hanging from a cottonwood tree. Matt had seen men hanged, but he’d never cut one down after three days. He’d lost his breakfast and done his job, but he’d paid a price. The nightmares from Virginia had come back with a new intensity. He hadn’t slept well since then, and he doubted the dreams would settle until he figured out who was behind the recent violence.
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.

Chapter Five
Matt woke up tired but not because of the usual nightmares. Instead of dreaming about Jed Jones or that night in Virginia, he’d been visited by Cinderella. Blue ribbons had graced her hair, and Sarah had called her “mama.” He didn’t know which dreams he found more disturbing. He knew how to deal with shame and darkness. Cinderella’s smile filled him with false hope. As much as Sarah needed a mama, Matt had no desire for a wife.
Yawning, he threw his legs over the side of the bed, rubbed his jaw and decided not to shave. After splashing water on his face and chest, he got dressed and went to the kitchen to fix Sarah a bowl of mush. As he lit the stove, a cantankerous thing he wanted to shoot dead, he thought of mornings back in Texas, the good days before he’d gotten short-tempered with Bettina. He had his doubts about marriage, but he’d have welcomed bacon and eggs in place of the fare more suited to life on the trail. When he’d ridden with the Rangers, he’d lived on jerky and had been fine. Sarah had taken to calling their morning meal “gruel.” Today he had to agree with her. It looked awful.
As he filled a chipped bowl, she walked into the kitchen. She’d dressed herself for school, but her hair was a tangle. She chattered mindlessly while she ate, then she fetched her hairbrush and Matt did the best job ever of fixing her braid. Just as Pearl had done, he pulled the hair tight and tied it off fast.
With Sarah helping, he washed the dishes and put an apple, cheese and good bread from Mrs. Holcombe in her lunch bucket. Sarah picked it up and headed for the door. Matt put Pearl’s letter in his pocket and together they walked to Miss Marlowe’s School. Knowing she had the interview tomorrow, he wanted to hand it to Miss Marlowe himself.
Still tense from his dreams, Matt enjoyed Sarah’s chatter as they walked. When they arrived at the school, he saw Carrie waiting for her students and waved at her.
Smiling broadly, she waved back. Matt considered asking her to deliver the letter, but he wanted to do it himself. As he handed over Sarah, he spoke quietly to Carrie. “Is Miss Marlowe around?”
“Not yet.” Carrie beamed at him. “She’ll be in around noon. Can I help you with something?”
“No, that’s all right.”
“Are you sure?” Her eyes clouded with worry. “If it’s about Sarah—”
“It’s not.” He wanted to keep the letter to Pearl as private as possible. “I’ll catch her later.”
Carrie’s expression dimmed. “Sure.”
Matt glanced around for Sarah. She’d joined a group of girls and looked happy today. The move to Cheyenne could have been far worse than it had been. He owed Carrie a great deal for making the move easier. He looked at her now and saw a good woman.
“Thank you, Carrie,” he said in a quiet tone. “You’ve made things easier for Sarah and I’m grateful.”
Her eyes sparkled, an indication of how much she loved children. “Thank you, Matt. She’s a wonderful little girl. If there’s anything more I can do, I’d be glad to help. I could take her to buy clothes or teach her to sew. I’d love to…” She kept rambling, but Matt stopped listening. He’d never understand why women talked so much.
When Carrie paused to catch her breath, he excused himself with a tip of his hat and headed for the sheriff’s office. He pushed through the door and saw Dan looking cantankerous. Matt didn’t bother to sit. His gut told him there had been trouble and he’d be making calls this morning. “What happened?”
The deputy made a show of rolling his eyes, then he clapped his hand over his heart in a display worthy of the actor playing Romeo. “It was terrible, Mr. Deputy. Just terrrrible!”
Matt grimaced. “This has to involve Jasper.”
“Yep.”
“The Peters kid again?”
“Nope.”
Matt propped his hips on his desk. “Spit it out.”
“You’re not going to believe it.”
“Try me.”
“One of Scottie’s girls did some shopping in Jasper’s store yesterday. Only she didn’t buy anything. She just looked.” Dan threw up his hands in mock horror. “She touched a hairbrush. Jasper says he can’t sell it because it’s tainted.”
“That’s silly.”
“It gets sillier.” Dan rocked forward in his chair. “I know this girl. Her name’s Katy. She cleans the saloon because it’s the only work she can get. Her husband died, and she wants to go back to Indiana. She’s saving for train fare.”
A ticket to Indiana wasn’t cheap, but Matt knew the stationmaster. Maybe he could get the girl a bargain. He went to the potbelly stove in the corner and poured himself coffee from an enamel pot. “What does Jasper want?”
“For us to arrest her.”
“On what charge?”
“He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.” Dan shook his head. “I figured you’d have better luck with him.”
“Thanks,” Matt said drily.
His friend flashed a grin. “That’s what you get for being new around here.”
“It’s been two months.”
“I’ve got seniority. That means I don’t have to deal with Jasper and you do.”
Matt swallowed the dregs of the coffee, then put down the cup. “As my mama used to say, there’s no time like the present.”
As he headed for the door, Dan called after him. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”
With the sun in his eyes, Matt walked the four blocks to Jasper’s store. Merchants opened their doors and bid him good morning. Wagons rattled by and drivers nodded in greeting. In the time he’d been in Cheyenne, he’d made a point of getting to know people. They talked to him. They trusted him. To stop the rash of violence, he’d need those eyes and ears on every corner.
As he approached Jasper’s shop, Matt passed the display window where he saw wares from back east. Jasper changed the merchandise often, and today Matt saw women’s hats, lace gloves and hankies. No wonder Katy had stopped to browse. Matt went inside and sauntered down the aisle, taking in the assortment of whatnot. The clutter irritated him, but Sarah would have been enchanted by the pretty things.
“Good morning, Deputy.”
Matt turned to the counter where he saw Jasper. What the shopkeeper lacked in height, he made up for in fancy clothing. Today he was wearing a green-and-yellow plaid vest, a starched shirt and a fancy tie. A mustache hid his upper lip, and wire spectacles sat on his pointy nose. With his hair slicked behind his too-small ears, he reminded Matt of a rat. “Good morning, Jasper.”
“It’s about time you got here.”
“You’re my first call of the day.” Matt spoke amiably, but the sniping annoyed him. The clock had just struck nine. Jasper’s store had been open for three minutes. Annoyed or not, Matt resolved to be polite. “I hear you’ve got a complaint.”
“I do.”
“Tell me about it.”
“One of Fife’s girls came in here and touched things. She left marks on them.”
Matt kept his face blank. “What kind of marks?”
“Smudges.”
If the girl had done real damage, he could have asked her to pay for it—or paid for it for her—and been done with the entire mess. Instead he had to reason with Jasper about smudges. “Could you wipe them off?”
The man reared back. “I don’t think you understand.”
Matt hid a grimace. “Maybe not.”
“She besmirched my property!”
Matt had arrested a lot of people for a lot of crimes, but besmirching wasn’t on that list. Did he explain to Jasper that nothing had been damaged? Did he fib and tell him he’d speak with Katy? What Matt wanted to do—call Jasper a two-faced hypocrite—wouldn’t solve the problem. The man had a lot of nerve to accuse a cleaning girl of “besmirching” when he himself had visited prostitutes and possibly bribed Ben Hawks to cover it up. If Matt’s hunch was correct, Jasper had done other things, too. He’d been one of the riders who busted out the windows at the Silver Slipper.
Annoyed, Matt tapped the counter. “Let me see the brush set.”

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