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
