Wyoming Lawman. Victoria Bylin

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